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Chapter Text

Isa had never been good at adjusting. He was a man of discipline and focus, not of flexibility—change didn’t suit him. It had taken him years to find his place in the Organization, and bitter though the memories of his days there were, at least they were constant. This new existence daunted him, leaving him uncertain—the path laid before him was far less clear than he’d ever known. He had his heart back, had Lea back, had a home and a life. He knew it was more than he could ever have hoped for. All the pieces of the puzzle he'd dreamed of for so long were in place at last. And yet some of them didn't quite fit together the way he'd imagined; it was like some of their edges had been sanded away, leaving gaping holes in the picture. 

Isa should have been happy. He knew he should have been. Yet, despite himself, memory gnawed at him like a starving beast, waiting around every corner to stop him in his tracks. Memories of heartache, from before he knew he had one to ache with. Memories of scrabbling desperately at the precipice of his life, the ground fracturing beneath his feet and leaving him in a chasm of his own making. Memories of certain faces, certain expressions, things that were dead and gone and meant to be forgotten, yet lingered in the remote depths of his heart. Memories followed his every footstep, a dogged miasma that poisoned his every thought and deed with guilt and shame. 

The heart, he had learned, could be a burdensome thing.

“Isa.” Lea’s voice, back in the present, cut through Isa’s musing. They were sitting at the bistro in Twilight Town, the warm light of the eternal sunset casting everything in a peachy hue. “You’re thinking again.”

“You should give it a try one of these days.” Isa looked up from his mug of coffee, a small smile crossing his lips. He pushed his steadily darkening thoughts aside.

Lea scoffed. “And you should knock it off every now and then. You know, you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re stuck on something. What’s on your mind?” 

“Memories,” Isa answered simply, crossing his legs beneath the table. 

“Good ones?” There was a note of hopefulness to Lea's voice, but Isa found that its timbre was soured by a more subtle note of doubt. 

Sighing, Isa absently swirled his coffee with a spoon, watching a tiny black whirlpool form. “That supply is rather low.”

“Good thing we’ve got a lifetime to change that, right?” Lea grinned at him, though there was a tinge of sadness to those emerald eyes. Isa kicked himself for being dismal again. As if he, of all people, had any right to wallow in self-pity. The nightmares he had were his own fault, after all. 

“Right.” Isa hated that he still felt awkward, that he never felt free of the strain their time in the Organization had placed on their relationship. He supposed it had only been a few months since the Keyblade War, and yet he couldn’t help but feel that he was slower to adjust to peace than the others. The remaining recompleted apprentices had stepped right back into time in Radiant Garden, working with the Restoration Committee. Roxas and Xion, too, seemed to have settled comfortably into regular life, hitting it off with the local kids as if they’d always known one another. Lea himself seemed at ease at last, emceeing for Struggle battles between off-world missions from the king and the old wizard. All of them had something to return to, old positions to take up or new friends to lean on. 

Isa, meanwhile, fell to the wayside, adrift and uncertain in skin he felt he didn't deserve nor was sure he wanted. In the Organization, it had been so easy. He had his rank, his duties, his goals. He knew almost nothing else beyond its structure—they had found their way into its ranks so young. Now, he was just a man, unsure of his place in this new life. All he had was Lea, and he knew that Lea would never be his alone. The thought still burned, though he knew its fecklessness. He'd lost that chance long ago.

“What are Roxas and Xion up to today?” Isa asked, changing the subject. He still felt the sharp sting of jealousy when Lea opted to spend time with the two of them, though he had taken to expertly tamping it down. He hadn’t been expecting Lea to groan at the question.

“That reminds me. Summer vacation here is almost over. They have to go to school now.” Lea let his head fall back with a sigh, throwing his hands up in the air. “I told them I'd make sure they have all the paperwork, but it’s so confusing when they’re both teenagers and a year old at the same time, and who knows what else they need—”

“Why don’t I take care of it?” Isa interjected. “I’m no stranger to paperwork.” Though he had somewhat surprised himself by offering, he figured that he did well having some kind of purpose, even if it was getting two teenagers he’d once been unable to stand registered for school.

Lea’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“They don’t need to know it was me, if you’re worried about that.” Isa didn’t blame the two kids for still harboring some reservations about him. He still wasn't exactly the friendliest type, even as a human.

“No, that’s not it,” Lea said shortly. “That’s just… really nice of you.”

“I’d be injured at the shock in your voice, if it weren't so warranted."

“Oh, shut up. This is great.” Lea was beaming, a genuine joy to his expression that startled Isa. He hadn’t expected such a response. 

“What would you do without me?” Isa deadpanned. Be perfectly fine, of course. 

“I’ve been without you, and to be honest, it sucked,” Lea replied simply. His words sent a pang through Isa’s chest.

And whose fault was that, I wonder?

Isa dismissed the bitter thought as quickly as it came, a bolt of shame striking through him in its place. He downturned his eyes so that it wouldn't show.

Lea, at least, just kept on grinning. “Thanks, Isa. I’ll get you what I have already, and I’ll help out with what I can.” 

This situation was comical in its mundanity, Isa couldn't help but think. Two men with very real blood on their hands, registering two of the most powerful teenagers in the universe for public school. Every possible combination of the four had beaten each other senseless at one point or another, and now Isa was acting like some stilted, disconnected step-mother, running errands on their behalf. It was absurd. Isa failed to hold back a laugh, a quiet sound in the back of his throat that grew into a dry, hearty chuckle.

Lea looked perplexed. “What’s gotten into you? Is that duck spiking his coffee?”

Isa shook his head, his laughter fading. “It’s just… could you imagine explaining this moment to ourselves ten years ago?”

“Yes, this one specifically. It’s all the stuff that happened in between that would be the kicker.” Lea broke into laughter, too, and Isa hid his waning chuckle behind his fist.

All the stuff that happened in between.  

None of them talked much about the old Organization, and least of all with Isa. He still had a propensity towards sullen moods, and had yet to explain the strange tugging sensation that welled in his chest anytime the topic arose. His expression would darken, and he would excuse himself for any number of imagined reasons, disappearing to his own devices for amounts of time ranging from minutes to hours. No one mentioned the absence when he returned, everything proceeding as usual. Xion might cast him a look, Lea might squeeze his arm a bit, but they didn't talk. Heavy conversation didn't suit this company, and Isa was, if anything, heavy conversation.

"I'll discuss things with Even," Isa said flatly, returning to business. "He'll almost certainly know how to forge whatever papers they might need, if necessary. You're welcome to come along."

Lea raised his hands, shaking his head. "I'm not the most popular guy over there," he said with a sheepish smile. He was always avoiding Radiant Garden. Their childhood home. "Too many memories," Lea had said when Isa asked about it. Isa had simply nodded, trying to pry the jaws of jealousy off his heart as they returned once more to Twilight Town, where Roxas and Xion awaited.

Isa brought himself back to the present moment. "It's all too easy for them to forget who sent the orders," he replied evenly.

"Yeah, at least I'm not Xemnas, I guess."

Isa blinked at him. He hadn't been referring to Xemnas. He had been referring to himself. Saïx had been the one to emphasize the elimination of the Castle Oblivion team. "I suppose so," he muttered, tilting his cup in a circle so that the drink almost spilled out over the sides.

Xemnas. No one really talked about him anymore, either. And why would they? No one knew him well—not like Saïx had. Xemnas was nothing more than their lying, twisted Superior, and now he was dead and gone for good. That was that.

There's no use still thinking about him, Isa had told himself more than once over the last few months, the insistence arising on those occasions when his thoughts drifted to pages of the past that he alone possessed any living memory of.

Downing the last of his half-cooled coffee, Isa stood from the wiry table. "I'm going to get going."

If Lea picked up on Isa's restlessness, he didn't show it. He merely planted a kiss on Isa's fingertips, one Isa would normally have cherished. At that moment, however, he was distracted by recollections, memories of silver-white hair and a deep baritone and hidden moments beneath the moon. It was unsettling, the way the images clashed with his current surroundings. 

"See you," came Lea's voice in his ears, bringing him at least partly back down to earth. Isa was drifting off a lot today. He wondered dimly if it would be worth discussing with Even, though he knew his own disposition would likely keep him from broaching the topic.

Isa gave him a tight-lipped smile, returning Lea's gesture. "I won't be long. See you."

Lea waved goodbye with an easy smile, and Isa felt another brief glimmer of guilt for being so moody all the time. He wished he could settle into the ease the others had, the cheery dispositions they all possessed, but he felt held back by some invisible force. He supposed that, more likely than not, it was of his own making. 

He made his way to the forest, striding towards the old mansion. Pulling out his gummiphone, he punched in the familiar number and waited until Ienzo's youthful face appeared on the screen. "Ienzo," he greeted brusquely. He wasn't yet accustomed to phone etiquette. "Would it be all right if I stopped by? I have something to discuss with Even."

"Hello, Isa," came Ienzo’s voice, tinny through the phone’s speaker. "Certainly. I can get a ship sent over from Cid's." Considering there was a continued need for inter-world travel in these days after the Keyblade war, the old pilot had gotten a ship built to act as a Restoration Committee-managed taxi, of sorts. Ienzo smiled at him through the screen. "How have you been?"

Isa wasn't particularly keen on small talk, but he obliged. The young man had been unexpectedly kind to him after his recompletion, after all. "I'm fine. You?"

"We're doing well over here. The restoration of Radiant Garden is going more smoothly than expected. Although," said Ienzo, taking his chin in his thin fingers, "we could always use another hand, if you're ever interested." 

"We'll see," Isa replied. He wasn't sure why he hesitated every time Ienzo asked. Perhaps it was the thought of being in Radiant Garden without Lea. Perhaps it was the animosity of the eyes he felt on the back of his skull—Saïx hadn’t exactly been the sweetheart of the Organization. And perhaps it was the fact that, while the streets of Radiant Garden were home, Isa, too, struggled to face his past. It was too littered with failures.

“Fair enough,” chirped Ienzo. “Just know that the offer is extended. The ship should be there for you soon. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you have to discuss with Even?”

“School registration,” Isa said blandly. Ienzo had become quite loquacious as he'd grown, it seemed. He looked surprised at Isa’s remark.

“University? I didn’t realize you were intending to study!”

A faint blush rose to Isa’s cheeks. He’d never even been able to finish secondary school—the thought of university hadn’t occurred to him in years. “Not for me. Roxas and Xion would be too conspicuous in this world if they didn’t go to school.” He hadn’t realized Ienzo’s eyebrows could rise even higher on his face.

“Forgive me. I hadn’t realized—I would have expected Lea to be the one—”

“Speaking of Lea, he's calling. I'd better take it,” Isa interrupted. It was a lie, but he wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation. 

“Ah, apologies. We’ll see you soon, then.”

“Thanks, Ienzo.” Isa hit the little red button on the phone screen, and Ienzo’s image blinked away. He sighed, looking up at the mansion. Its front yard had become the typical pickup spot for traveling between Twilight Town and Radiant Garden, sequestered away as it was. Roxas and Xion had fixed the mansion itself up nicely—with Lea’s help, of course. Lea would be living there himself were it not for Isa, Isa was sure. He visited periodically, whenever Lea asked him to, but he wasn’t exactly proactive when it came to socializing, especially when it came to individuals who had infinitely more reason to loathe him than otherwise. It didn't help that he had a particular memory in one of the side rooms that made entering the old mansion more than a little awkward.

Before the battle at the Keyblade Graveyard, before Saïx knew there was a life yet ahead of him, he had given himself over to Xemnas one final time in the dilapidated mansion. Saïx had just made his own peace with Lea atop the clock tower, and all of them on the side of darkness were doomed to die, and Xemnas's embrace, for all his lies and all of Saïx's anger, was the only constant Saïx still knew. The memory of Xemnas’s fingers ghosting over his skin, those amber eyes intense behind strands of silver—it wasn’t a memory Isa had expected to retain so clearly. Though perhaps that was his own ignorance talking. He peered at the first story window, the old moth-eaten curtain long since replaced, and wondered at the strange feeling that burned in his chest.

Before long, he heard the whirring of the ship above him. Turning and shielding his eyes from the gust of wind, he left the mansion behind him, letting the autopilot of the ship guide him back to Radiant Garden.

Chapter Text

The flowerbeds had recovered somewhat, their blooms swaying in the gentle afternoon breeze. Isa disembarked from the Gummi ship, the air cool on his face and catching in his hair. For one reason or another, he still hadn’t bothered to cut it, though Lea remarked frequently enough on his split ends.

The town was more active than last time he’d been here, the sounds of the market wafting into the square as people milled about, attending to their daily business. Despite the scars left on the structures that hadn’t needed rebuilding from scratch, life had returned to Radiant Garden. A pit settled in Isa’s belly knowing the hand he’d had in its destruction. Lea would always say it had been Saïx, not Isa, but Isa knew the line between the two was far thinner than Lea seemed to think.

Looking around as the ship departed back to its hangar, Isa realized that, despite having grown up in the nearby boroughs, he didn’t recognize the vast majority of people around him. Every so often, a face would look vaguely familiar, but he could never manage to put a name to it. He walked through the crowds, doing his best to hide beneath the high collar of his jacket. Just because his early memories were addled didn’t mean anyone else’s were.

He made his way through the wrought iron gate at the north end of the plaza, following the path that led to the castle. There were missing cobbles here and there, and great patches of the castle were covered in scaffolding, but it was still familiar—almost painfully so. He scaled the stone steps up to the main entrance of the castle where, as usual, Dilan and Aeleus stood guard. Isa was struck by the recollection of being tossed out by the two, time and time again, during his youth with Lea. He snorted to himself. If only the two huge men had done a better job.

“I’m here to see Even,” he said as he approached, his footsteps loud on the stone. The two men didn’t move. He supposed he no longer struck the same imposing figure as he had while serving as the adjutant of the Organization—now, as he was so frequently reminded, he was just a man. “It’s about Roxas and Xion.” Dilan raised a magnificent eyebrow, and Aeleus shrugged. They didn’t need to know that Isa was being deliberately vague about the incredibly mundane task he had assigned himself. 

“Not so much as a greeting?” said Aeleus, his stony face cracking into a small smile. His voice was surprisingly gentle for his gigantic stature. “It’s been a while since we've seen you, after all, Isa.”

“Something tells me he hasn’t forgotten how it was to boss us around,” Dilan muttered, stepping aside to open the massive door. Isa flushed, embarrassed. He hadn’t intended to come across that way.

“Apologies,” he said quickly, crossing his arms. “I... didn’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary. How are things here?”

“Moving along. Ienzo has been making great strides with the new reconstruction programs.” There was a swell of pride to Aeleus’s voice.

“That’s good to hear.”

“He’ll talk your ear off about it, too,” added Dilan. Despite his general crabbiness, he also spoke with an air of fondness—the original apprentices all shared a particular closeness, as Isa had learned early on. Dilan turned back to him, gesturing to the open entryway. “You know where the lab is, but you may have to wait a moment. The boy from the Land of Departure evidently had some business with the researchers today, as well. He arrived not long ago. Connected to your errand, perhaps?”

Boy from the Land of Departure? Isa wasn’t certain he knew to whom Dilan was referring. He shook his head. “No, I believe our affairs are separate. Thank you both.” Dilan shrugged, and the two resumed their posts on either side of the entryway. Isa took a deep breath and stepped into the castle.

He had visited it a few times since reawakening, usually for the routine tests Ienzo insisted on. Every time he returned, he felt a chill through his bones, the memories that haunted the halls of the castle scratching at the corners of his mind. He still thought of the girl he and Lea had failed to save, long gone though she was. And yet the memories remained.

On instinct, he wound his way towards the lab, dodging a few younger individuals in lab coats and guardsman gear. Fortunately for Isa, his usual severe expression, coupled with the scar on his face, tended to divert inquisition. A few whispers followed in his wake, amidst which he could pick out the familiar words “scar” and “scary.” He ignored them all. He’d long since grown accustomed to the murmurs about his features.

When he at last reached the door of the lab, it was shut, heated conversation emanating from within. Casting a cursory glance around, he leaned against the wall nearest the door, listening in. Old habits died hard.

“Him?” Ansem the Wise sounded irked. “I fail to see the purpose.”

“He may have his uses,” came Even’s voice, slow and thoughtful, “should we be able to keep his presence to ourselves.”

“He’s the only one that knows the extent of the experiments performed back then. If what Terra says is true, without Master Xehanort’s direct influence, he may be able to assist us,” said Ienzo, and Isa froze. Terra… the name stuck out to him, as did the mention of Xehanort.

“And why would he?” grumbled Ansem. “Have you forgotten the past so quickly? The havoc he wrought upon us all?”

Another man’s voice chimed in, one Isa didn’t entirely recognize. Perhaps he was the one Dilan had mentioned. “Respectfully, sir, it’s more complicated than that. He formed his own heart—that means he made a connection of his own somewhere. He’s not Xehanort anymore, not completely.” The hair on the back of Isa’s neck stood on end. They had to be talking about him. But why?

The man’s voice continued. “I know it sounds strange, but I can just… feel it.”

“Pardon me,” Ienzo interjected all of a sudden, “but I sense someone is waiting outside. A moment, please.”

Isa stiffened, taking a few steps back so as not to look quite so blatant in his eavesdropping. It seemed Ienzo had retained some of his odd sensory abilities from his time as a Nobody. The sound of shuffling, a huff from Ansem, and the laboratory door slid open. “Isa!” Ienzo exclaimed. “I’m so sorry—we’ve been embroiled in a rather lengthy discussion. Do you mind waiting a bit longer? I hope it’s not too urgent.”

Isa shook his head, well aware of the way his face had paled at what he had overheard. “It’s fine. I can wait.” He glanced into the room, his gaze landing on Ansem the Wise, Even, and—

“It’s you.” The words that came from the other man startled Isa. His face was familiar, though Isa remembered him with silver hair and yellow eyes rather than the brown and blue he now had. There was something else eerily familiar about his expression, too, his doleful eyes lighting on Isa in a way their golden counterparts hadn’t during their time in the real Organization. It was Terra, as himself this time. But how did he know Isa? His heart had been who-knows-where when Saïx was interacting with his possessed self.

“Pardon?” Isa’s voice was distant in his own ears. Terra crossed the laboratory, his hand rising absently to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Terra said, looking like he’d startled himself as much as anyone else. “I’ve just… I feel like I know you.”

“I don’t believe we’ve ever officially been introduced,” Isa replied, his placid voice hiding the tremor in his hands. It was true, he supposed. The possessed version of Terra certainly didn’t count, and though Isa recalled him being at the beach on the Destiny Islands, they had spoken little. Isa’s chest felt tight as he met Terra’s eyes.

“Not us, but…” He trailed off, looking back to Ansem and Even. “You see what I mean?”

Even’s spindly fingers curled around his chin almost identically to the way Ienzo had earlier. Ienzo must have picked up on the habit. “How very intriguing,” he mused. “Master Ansem, I think a study is in order. This is a rare case, one we have witnessed only once before, and under different circumstances. Please, Isa, do come in. This very well may be a fortuitous coincidence.”

For the love of—

All Isa had wanted today was to figure out high school registration papers for two unusual kids. Who knew what he was walking into now? For a moment, he wished he had been more insistent in asking Lea to come along, though the recollection of the last time the pair had wandered ignorantly into a study sat grimly in his mind. “I don’t mind waiting outside,” he said, folding his arms tightly. “You can finish your discussion. I can return later.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” said Even. “It seems you may be of significant relevance to the matter at hand.”

“It’s only a discussion,” Ienzo added, trying to diffuse some of the tension that had arisen in the laboratory. “We would appreciate your input.”

Isa sighed, letting his arms fall to the side. He wasn’t going to get out of this, and wasn’t certain he could live with the curiosity if he turned on his heel and walked away. He shot a sidelong glance at Even, who merely raised his eyebrows in anticipation of Isa’s answer. “Fine.” 

Isa entered the lab past Ienzo, the door sliding shut behind them as Even gestured to Terra. “I believe you were familiar with this young man while he was… ahem, not himself.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” said Terra, a dark note to his voice. His eyes hadn’t left Isa since they first lighted on him, their deep blue piercing beneath his dense eyelashes. “Name’s Terra.” He extended his hand to Isa, and Isa took it, surprised by the shock that ran up his arm at the touch. A strange apprehension sat heavy in his belly.

“Isa here was another of Master Xehanort’s vessels,” Even explained to Terra, “although he aided those of us on the side of Light in the end.” 

Terra nodded his understanding as he dropped Isa’s hand. “Sorry for startling you,” he said to Isa, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve got this thing happening that we’re trying to figure out, and—”

Even interrupted again, and, for once, Isa was grateful for his curt nature. “We have hypothesized that Xemnas’s fledgling heart may not have vanished into the aether as we previously thought. Rather, we believe it may have taken sanctuary within Terra’s, as it was from Terra’s body that our once-superior was born.”

A chill washed over Isa. So Xemnas had managed to grow a heart of his own, after all. And it hadn’t faded with his defeat. Isa looked at Terra, realizing at last why he, with his gaze and his touch, seemed so bizarrely familiar. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the information.

“If we got him a replica, he might be able to answer a few questions we have,” stated Ienzo. “He was a rare Nobody, born from two people, just like Roxas and Naminé. It would be interesting to compare the data, seeing as one instance drew from light and the other darkness.”

“And then what?” Isa’s retort seemed to surprise the room, his tranquil voice masking the way his stomach was tying itself into knots. Ienzo shifted uncomfortably, apparently at a loss for words at last. Isa looked over at Even and Ansem, receiving no response there, either. “Well? Assuming you manage to glean any information from him, what do you plan to do with him afterward? Keep him locked up in the basement? Extinguish him completely once he outlives his usefulness?” 

“We certainly couldn’t allow him to roam free,” Ansem the Wise intoned, stroking his beard beneath a furrowed brow. “He could still prove a danger, though our current strength in numbers offers us some security. However, Ienzo brings up a good point. I suppose he could be of use, should the proper precautions be taken.” His apparent change of heart brought a hopeful look to Ienzo’s face, but his words made Isa feel uneasy.

“There’s another reason.” All the eyes in the room turned to Terra. “Lately, I’ve been having these dreams, memories that aren’t mine. I’ve been remembering things, clear as day, that I know for sure never happened to me.” He looked pointedly at Isa, and Isa—if the way Terra had been looking at him had been any indication—had the unfortunate feeling that he knew exactly what Terra was referring to. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, but if Terra noticed it, he made no sign.

Ansem’s expression softened somewhat. “I suppose Terra has long since earned the right to be no one but himself.” 

The puzzle was falling into place at last, though Isa was now avoiding Terra’s gentle gaze. He looked at Even instead. “And where do I fit into this?” he asked, keeping his expression perfectly impassive. The answer he expected was not the one he wanted to hear, and surely enough, when Terra spoke again, he confirmed Isa’s suspicions. His blue eyes, earnest and clear, bored into Isa with an intensity he remembered intimately.

“You’re in these memories more than anyone else. That’s why I recognized you.”

The implications were clear. Isa crossed his arms over his chest again, as if to muffle the heartbeat that quickened in his chest. “I’m afraid you’re going to need to be more pedantic with me.”

“A connection,” Ansem said slowly. “That is how a heart can be born. It is difficult to believe, but...”

“Evidently, dear boy, you left more of an impact on the King of All Nobodies than any of us anticipated.” The slight, crooked smile that crossed Even’s angular face when he spoke burned on Isa’s cheeks. Ansem, meanwhile, glowered at him with thinly-veiled disapproval. 

“That isn’t possible,” Isa said coolly, revisiting the old skill of keeping his voice meticulously flat despite the thoughts that roiled beneath. “I was no closer to him than any other member of the Organization.”

At that, Terra’s brows shot up in a way that felt like he’d slapped Isa in the face. He hadn’t meant it to, of course, but his look of earnest incredulity spoke for itself.

Even, too, gave him a pointed look. “That, young man, is entirely untrue.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, his knowing look making Isa suddenly feel like he would be perfectly content crashing the Gummi ship into an asteroid on his way home. Ienzo chuckled nervously despite himself, and Terra rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in part of the armor on his arm.

Ansem the Wise snorted. “Should we be successful with the replication, it seems that you may be able to exert certain... influences over Xemnas that could work in our favor.”

Isa shut his eyes and exhaled through his nose, pinching its bridge. He hadn’t asked for this. All he’d wanted today were a pair of forged birth certificates, not the knowledge that his desperate affair with his boss had, for better or worse, played a large part in building a heart from scratch. He didn’t want to know what Lea would think of that.

“What do you want me to do, then?” he asked at length, before the flushed shade of pink overtaking his face could spread to the tips of his ears.

“Nothing, potentially,” Ienzo said, perhaps more quickly than was necessary. “This has merely given us some valuable insight into the workings of the heart. Although, should we choose to proceed, we would appreciate your continued input.” 

At the moment, Isa didn’t want to consider what that might possibly entail. “Do whatever you want,” he snapped, walking over to the railing that overlooked the Heartless manufactory. He remembered the cells deep below, dark and miserable, where his long-lost friend had once been held. As much as Xemnas probably deserved it, the thought of him wasting away down there didn’t settle right in the pit of Isa’s gut.

“I should get going,” came Terra’s voice after a pause that stretched just far enough into the realm of uncomfortable. “Thanks for talking with me today.”

Ansem folded his hands behind his back. “We appreciate the information, and will discuss this matter further at a later time. Give my regards to Master Aqua, will you?”

Terra’s eyes softened at the mention of the master. “Yes sir.”

Isa remained staring down at the manufactory, deliberately ignoring the way Terra’s eyes bored into the back of his skull as he left. Only once the door had closed behind him did Isa turn back to the three researchers, feeling entirely more self-conscious than he had planned to that day. 

“Now,” said Even as Ienzo directed Ansem to a series of charts on the computer. “What was it you yourself wished to discuss with me? Unless, of course, it’s a more private matter.”

Isa’s lips drew into a tight line. As if matters could get more private than what they had just been speaking of. He sighed, long and deep.

“I came to ask you about registering Roxas and Xion for school.”

Chapter Text

Isa returned to Twilight Town late that night, an envelope of paperwork for Roxas and Xion tucked into his jacket. He had taken time to wander the back alleys of Radiant Garden in the vain hope of clearing his head, letting his lungs fill with the crisp dusk air. Lea had texted him no less than five times after Isa had sent a brisk “Be back late. Got caught up,” but Isa didn’t have the energy to reply. He purchased a black coffee from one of the market stalls, frowning at its bitterness. At least it was warm. 

Staring out towards the melancholy cliffs of the gaping maw, he tried to wrap his head around the two bombshells he’d been struck with that day. First, Xemnas very well might find his way back to the land of the living. Second, Isa himself had inadvertently played a part in creating the possibility. Even’s words echoed in his ears: “Evidently, you left more of an impact on the King of All Nobodies than any of us anticipated.”  

Could it really be true? How had he not noticed? His consorts with Xemnas had been entirely self-motivated—ingratiating himself to his superior, working his way up the ranks with overthrow in mind, and, in the end, filling the empty hole left by Axel. He had always assumed that Xemnas was merely reveling in his own power by indulging in Saïx—that pleasures of the mind and body were enjoyable, but ultimately meaningless, for the emotionless overseer of the Nobodies. Isa hadn’t expected to be proven wrong so abruptly.

Isa watched as the sun blinked out of sight beyond the horizon, memories he had attempted time and again to discard surfacing in the forefront of his mind. This time, their sheen was different, highlighted by the implications divulged by Terra and the others. The swift promotion despite his low number, the elixirs left atop neatly folded clothes in the morning. The strange glances he caught during meetings, the way he was never turned away from Xemnas’s door. All that time, in the face of his own lies, Xemnas had been nursing a burgeoning heart of his own. Isa wondered if Xemnas himself had ever realized as much. The thought made his head swim.

When Isa slipped back into the Twilight Town apartment, a bottle of wine for Lea tucked beneath his arm as an apology for getting home so late, he saw Lea settled on the couch, still wide awake as some sitcom quietly played on the TV.

“Isa!” he exclaimed, his voice resounding with frustration and relief in equal parts as he leaped to his feet. “Why didn’t you call me? What took you so long?”

Isa sighed, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “I’m sorry. It’s… a very long story. But I brought wine, and I got the papers for Roxas and Xion.” He waved the envelope with a strained smile.

“That’s great, but you look like you had to fight a giant Heartless to get to them, which, last time I checked, isn’t usually a prerequisite for getting kids enrolled in school. You’re even paler than usual.” Lea’s voice was edged with concern. “What in the world happened?” 

A new wave of guilt washed over Isa. He really should have replied. Isa sighed, debating whether he could manage an explanation tonight or should insist on waiting until morning. “I walked in on an unexpected conversation between our researcher acquaintances,” he said. “Terra was there, as well. I got caught up in it.”

“Terra was there?” Lea’s expression was puzzled. “I haven’t seen him in a while. What was he up to?”

“Well, he certainly gave me a few things to think about,” Isa muttered.

Lea eyed him. “Do we need to talk about something?”

“Yes.” Isa's answer was blunt as he hung his jacket up on the coat rack. “But it can wait until tomorrow. I need to sleep on things.”

“Okay,” Lea said slowly, still looking perplexed. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Isa mumbled. He supposed he wasn’t not fine, but he wasn’t feeling entirely put-together, either. “Let’s go to bed.”

Lea, as usual, was out like a light within minutes of his head hitting the pillow. Isa, meanwhile, lay awake deep into the night, despite the heaviness of his eyelids. Feeling so deeply after ten years of dulled and repressed emotions was still new to him, and he struggled to organize his thoughts. A connection. The thought frightened Isa, though not with the fear he had known as a child, running through the dim bowels of the castle with Lea, nor the fear of failure that had plagued Saïx. The apprehension coursing through him was one of unknown variables, of more possibilities than he had ever been faced with in his life. A door was about to open, and who was to say how many more lay beyond it. 

He looked at Lea lying beside him. His oldest, dearest friend, a man he loved. Lea knew how the heart worked better than Isa ever had. Perhaps, when they spoke tomorrow, he could shed light on the feeling burgeoning in Isa’s chest, one Isa hesitated to give name to.

The next morning, Isa was awoken by the sunlight streaming in through the blinds and the smell of brewing coffee. When he rolled over, seeing Lea’s side of the bed empty and hearing a distant expletive from the kitchen, he realized that he, for once, had slept in. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he rolled out of bed with a groan. He had a splitting headache. Wandering into the kitchen, he saw Lea standing over a pan of scrambled eggs, another pan with the burnt remnants of… something else soaking in the sink. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” said Lea with a grin, glancing over at Isa. There was a slight strain to his voice, but his smile was warm as Isa sat at the table. Lea paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully down at the pan. “Reminds me, I wonder how that Aurora girl is doing.” 

Isa peered at him in amusement. “What did you burn?”

“This wasn’t the first batch of eggs,” Lea sighed, spooning some of his successful batch onto two plates alongside slices of toast. He set a plate in front of Isa, who nudged a few pieces around with a fork. He should have been starving, but his appetite evaded him.

“You want to talk about whatever happened yesterday?” Lea ventured. There were still moments when he spoke to Isa gingerly, as if waiting for Isa to blow up in his face. Isa hated the fact that everyone still walked on eggshells around him, and hated even more the fact that he had been the one to scatter them in the first place.

“Second chances,” Isa said quietly, resting his fist on the table. “We’ve all been offered them. Why, after everything that’s happened?” He leveled his gaze at Lea, who looked surprised.

“I guess it’s ‘cause we’re working for it,” came Lea’s slow reply. “Lucky for us, everybody else decided to be nice and let us.”  

“Do we deserve it?”

“Does it make a difference?” Lea shrugged. “Either way, we’ve been given those chances. All we can do is try to earn ‘em.”  

“Dilan, Even, Aeleus, Ienzo, the pair of us,” Isa continued, his breakfast growing cold. “We’ve all been offered a second lease on life. Would you offer it to the others, if we knew their whereabouts?”

“What are you getting at, Isa?” A frown had formed on Lea’s lips. “Did they find somebody else?”

“Answer my question.”

Lea huffed through his teeth. “I guess it wouldn’t be fair to deny them the chance that we got, you know? Besides, I wouldn’t mind hanging out with Luxord or Demyx again without anybody breathing down our necks. ...No offense.” Isa said nothing, mulling over the implications of Lea’s words. Lea tapped his plate with his fork. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“The researchers at Radiant Garden have found a heart that once belonged to a member of the Organization. They’re thinking of transferring it to a replica.”

Lea’s eyes went wide. “They… found a heart? I didn’t know they could do that. Whose? And where?”

“Terra. Evidently, his heart may have an interloper, like Sora’s once did.” Isa watched to gauge Lea’s reaction—first, there was a look of confusion on his face, followed by one of deep thought, and then dawning, horrorstruck realization.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “You don’t mean—” 

“It seems that Xemnas’s heart not only exists, but has taken refuge in the heart of the body he was born from. Just as Roxas’s did with Sora.” Speaking the words aloud himself made the situation feel all the more real.

Lea’s face paled. “You couldn’t have started with that info?”

“Would your previous answers have been different if I had?” 

“I—well, Xemnas is another story. It was his fault we all went through everything we did. We wouldn’t have needed second chances in the first place if it weren’t for him. There’s gotta be a line somewhere.”

“I expect the researchers have had plenty of discussions along the same lines.” Isa spoke slowly, trying to control his racing mind. “But it appears that Xemnas’s ties to Xehanort have been severed.”

“Xemnas is Xehanort,” Lea said emphatically, his grip on his fork far tighter than necessary. “They’re the same guy, Isa.”

“Would you say the same of Roxas and Sora?” Isa was surprised at himself. He had never thought he’d find himself leaping to Xemnas’s defense, but, as he had learned so many times over his lifetime, the heart was a fickle thing. 

“I—” Lea pursed his lips. “That’s different.”

Isa folded a few bites of cold egg into his toast, at last taking a small bite, chewing, and swallowing before he spoke again. “The research team seems to think otherwise. As does Terra.”

Lea chewed on his lip, his thin brows furrowing downward. “What makes them think bringing him back is a good idea?”

“As I understand it, they want to study him. Probe his mind for information about the experiments held behind the Sage King’s back. They seemed particularly interested in the… uniqueness of his heart.” 

Humming, Lea bounced one of his legs up and down beneath the table. It was an old habit from his childhood, one he seemed to have redeveloped alongside his humanity. “I guess that makes sense,” he said, still uneasy. “I wonder when he grew his heart back. It seemed to me like he never did.”

“I’m not certain, either,” Isa said flatly. He didn’t want to elaborate on that subject to Lea just yet.

Lea’s leg bouncing grew extreme, and had it been another day, Isa may have pointed it out. As it was, he merely waited as Lea clearly deliberated the best way to ask his next question. “Well,” he said, pursing his lips. “You did sort of—I mean—how do you feel about it?”

Isa stood, taking his plate to the sink and scraping his half-eaten breakfast into the garbage. “I suppose it’s not really any of my concern,” he said slowly, starting to work on the dishes. He wasn’t sure how he felt, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask Lea’s advice, after all. “If Ansem the Wise chooses to go through with it, then Xemnas will be held in the castle. I don’t need to be involved.”

“Do you wanna be?” Lea’s question took Isa by surprise. Isa turned to face him.

“What do you mean?” His heart beat in his throat.

Lea scratched the back of his head, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe you could use the, I dunno, closure?”

Isa was far more afraid of the opposite—he feared that a floodgate might open that couldn’t easily be dammed. He drew his lips into a thin line. “I… don’t know,” he said, fighting his natural instinct to be evasive. “It was all… unexpected.”

“Tell me about it.” Lea was doing his best to hide his agitation, but Isa had known him for a long time. This turn of events had clearly unsettled him.

“We’ll have to wait and see how it turns out,” Isa stated, “and trust in the researchers to keep things under control.”

“Suppose so.” Lea brought his own empty plate to the sink, adding it to the sudsy water. “Well, thanks for the update, I guess. And for getting that stuff for Roxas and Xion! Man, that makes this whole process a lot easier. I’m gonna get the rest of it taken care of today.” His voice and expression had brightened almost immediately at the change of subject, and Isa felt slight whiplash. He wasn’t as good at subject-hopping as Lea.

“Ah—of course.” Isa folded his arms, glancing out the window. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the eternal sunset. It had already taken him the greater part of a decade to grow accustomed to the constant night of the World That Never Was, and he had already been a night owl. 

“Speaking of which, I’m going to be late for that meeting with them at the school today. I’ve gotta get going. Take it easy, okay?” Lea clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Isa gave him a wry smirk. “It’s a good thing they’re not going to our old school. You’d have gotten tossed out the moment you entered the door.”

“Only two of the fires were my fault. See ya, Isa.” Lea grabbed his bag, obviously already late, and gave Isa a wave as he left out the front door, a grin on his face. Isa waved goodbye, managing a smile of his own before the door clicked shut. Sighing to himself as he finished the dishes, stacking them to dry, Isa stole a glance at the clock in the kitchen. He had slept in.

Pouring himself a new mug of coffee, he went to the bedroom and got dressed, braiding his hair over one shoulder. Maybe he should cut it. He ran his fingers through one of the long strands he left around his face, struck suddenly with the memory of another gloved hand doing the same thing. Xemnas always seemed to have liked his hair.

His breath caught in his chest.

Chapter Text

Isa got the call a week later. Lea was off-world, training with Merlin again, and Isa, as was his preference, had sequestered himself away in their apartment. He still hesitated at the thought of running into Roxas or Xion when Lea was away—not out of fear for them or himself, but out of sheer awkwardness. He didn’t know how to speak to them when Lea wasn’t there to keep the mood light.

Isa was curled up on the couch, thumbing through an old magazine, when he heard the grating buzz of his gummiphone vibrating on the coffee table. He frowned. Lea hadn’t left long ago—why would he be calling? Stretching his legs as he stood—he found they had gotten stiffer since becoming human again—he picked up the phone, pressing the green answer button. Where he had expected Lea’s face, Ienzo appeared. Isa froze. 

“Ienzo?”

“Hello, Isa,” said the boy. “Is this a good time?”

“As good as any. What’s going on?” Isa had spent every waking moment of the last week turning the words of their last encounter over and over in his mind, trying desperately to digest every possibility imaginable.

“No need to sound so concerned!” Ienzo said, waving his free hand. “I just thought I’d offer you an update on the matter we spoke of last week.”

“Has something happened?”

“Master Ansem has permitted the procedure. Even already has several completed replicas, and Terra has agreed to undergo the process of extraction.” There was a tinge of nervous excitement to Ienzo’s voice. Ever the academic. “We’re planning to make our effort this evening,” he continued. “As you were involved in the conversation, we wanted to invite you to be present, as well, should you have any unique insights.”

Isa’s heartbeat felt loud in his throat. “That was quick.”

Ienzo gave a sheepish chuckle. “Well, Terra, Even, and I have been looking into the subject for a few weeks. The discussion you witnessed was only us positing the idea to Master Ansem.”

“I see,” Isa said slowly. “Does anyone else know?”

“Master Ansem has discussed the matter with Yen Sid and King Mickey, and we’ve also informed Dilan and Aeleus, as they will be taking turns standing guard, just in case. I expect you’ve discussed things with Lea, as well?”

“Yes, though I left out a few finer details."

“All well and good. We’re trying to keep the procedure under wraps for the time being, at least until we’ve achieved some kind of stable result.”

“I see." Isa paused, chewing his lip. "Out of curiosity, just what ‘unique insights’ do you expect me to have? You seem to have things quite under control.” He wondered genuinely at the answer, though he kept his expression blank. 

Ienzo fidgeted slightly before answering. “Well, you’re more familiar with Xemnas himself than any of us are. Should he wake in a… less than optimal manner, we believe that you would have a higher likelihood of de-escalating the situation than the rest of us.”

A frown immediately tugged at Isa's scar. “I backstabbed him in both Organizations,” he said, incredulous. “I really don’t know if that would be the case.”

Ienzo shrugged. “Terra seems to think so, and he’s the only word we have to go on.”

“I just gave you my word to go on. I know Xemnas.”

“I thought you said you were no closer to him than the rest of us?” Ienzo looked quite pleased with himself.

Isa merely grit his teeth. “I’ll be there.”

Though he knew Lea wasn’t supposed to get back for a few more days, Isa still left him a note. “Going off-world for a bit. Be back soon,” it read, scrawled in Isa’s thin, tidy handwriting and left on the stovetop. It was the least he would have expected from Lea in the same circumstance, after all. He hoped to be home that evening, but there were simply too many variables in play to be sure. 

When he got to Radiant Garden, the sun had already started to set. The sunset here was more violet, more somber than Twilight Town’s eternal warmth. The air felt chilly on Isa’s cheeks as he returned to the castle. Ushered in once more by Dilan and Aeleus, he made it back to the lab, his stomach a mess of knots and his footfalls loud in his ears.

Before he even knocked, the laboratory door slid open, revealing Ienzo and Ansem behind it. The young man gestured inside. 

“Isa, good,” said Even from within. “We’re almost ready to begin.”

Isa entered the lab behind Ienzo, pulling his hair over one shoulder. Two medical beds had been placed in the center, Terra sitting on one and the familiar, empty white form of a replica lying on the other. The replica had a series of wires attached to various spots on its forehead and torso, with a white sheet draped over its lower half. Its arms, Isa noticed with apprehension, were strapped to the bed. Terra gave Isa a good-natured wave, and Isa returned the gesture with what little ease he had. The replication process made him uneasy as it was; the fact that it was Xemnas being replicated only added to the cloud swirling through Isa’s mind. 

“How was this possible?” Isa asked. “If I recall correctly, didn’t Sora need a special power to release a sleeping heart?”

“Since the memories started, I’ve been working to earn the power of waking,” said Terra plainly. When Isa looked at him in perplexity, he shrugged. “It’s a good skill for Keyblade wielders to have, anyway. This is a good way to try it out.”

“Seems like everyone has their motives."

“What are yours?” Terra’s gaze was painfully earnest, and Isa suddenly felt a little too exposed.

Isa toyed with a loose thread on his jacket, retreating behind its collar. “Morbid curiosity.”

He wasn’t sure he had a real answer. 

Ansem’s voice cut through their conversation. “We’re almost ready. Terra, lie back.”

Terra did as he was told, folding his hands over his belly. Even tinkered with one of the machines to his left while Ienzo punched data into the computer. Isa simply stood, his eyes on the replica. Would Xemnas be the same when he returned? Just how much influence did Xehanort’s heart have? Would he even tell the truth?

A headache was beginning to form behind Isa’s eyes.

“Good luck, Terra,” Ienzo said, finishing up the last few lines of his code. 

“We’ll see what happens,” replied Terra, though the small smile on his lips looked hopeful. He closed his eyes, and Isa watched as strings of indecipherable data scrolled across the giant computer screens. Ansem, after a few minutes, passed a hand over Terra’s face, reading a few details from one of the smaller screens nearby.

“He has entered the realm of sleep,” he said, looking back at the other three men. “Preparations are finished on our end?” Ienzo nodded as Even finished working on the machine.

“Looking good so far,” said Ienzo, typing a few things on the keyboard. Isa merely watched, his eyes drawn to the peculiarly familiar rise and fall of Terra’s chest. "Everything is under control."

“Isa,” Even said, grabbing Isa’s attention as he gestured towards himself. “A word.”

Frowning, Isa followed him to the other side of the laboratory. Even made a show of grabbing a few notebooks off the shelf before speaking to him softly.

“How much did he matter to you in the end?” he said. 

Isa’s brows twitched. "He… didn't," he said, crossing his arms and avoiding Even's pointed gaze. "He was a means to an end."

"Hm," Even hummed, stroking his chin. "You're certain there wasn't more to it than that?"

"Does it matter?" Isa didn't particularly want to answer that question. Not aloud.

"Xemnas's heart is still partially incomplete, particularly without harboring the essence of Xehanort," Even said thoughtfully. "It will finish developing, but for now, elements of it are moldable. Aside from Terra and, perhaps, Braig, you appear to have the closest ties to him. You may be able to influence his… perceptions."

"And so the researcher becomes the subject," Isa muttered, his eyes narrowing. "So that's why you invited me. You think I can seduce him."

"Well, if it comes to that, it certainly needn't be here," said Even, his nose wrinkling slightly. "But we expect he may be more honest with you than with us."

"He told me the same lies he told the rest of you." Isa's temper had begun to flare. "That we had no hearts to speak of."

"True," said Even, "but you must admit he was far more forthcoming when it came to sharing other details with you. Did you forget that you were rank seven, and yet he put you in charge of running the entire Organization?” There was a hint of bitterness to Even’s voice. 

Isa scowled. “I’ll do what I can to get you your answers, but I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s enough for me.” Even scratched a few notes into one of the notebooks before returning it to its place on the shelf. “And now, we wait.” 

Isa followed him back to where Ienzo and Ansem were monitoring the main computer screen, talking quietly to one another. The ache in Isa’s skull had grown more insistent, and he passed a hand over his face, rubbing his brow bone. Standing off to the side, a few feet away from where Even rejoined the academics’ conversation, Isa’s eyes landed on the replica. Blank and white, Isa imagined it metamorphosing, its figure stretching and molding into a shape Isa knew intimately.

Staring at its blank face, Isa found himself thinking of Xion. She had once appeared to him as nothing but the empty slate of the replica—and yet she had forged herself a new identity, had built her own destiny and become her own person. Isa found himself wondering if Xemnas would be able to do the same.

He snorted to himself. How things had changed.

“What results are you expecting?” he asked. “Are there any concerns thus far?”

“Should Terra be able to release his heart, we will route it into the replica,” Ienzo explained. “From there, we will simply have to wait and see.”

“Xemnas’s heart, as you know, is a special case,” said Even. “It is difficult to predict how it will react, bereft as it now is of Xehanort’s direct influence. He may awaken immediately, or it may take some time for his heart to adapt to the replica.”

“And when he wakes? What do you plan to do, then?” Isa looked at the leather straps that bound the replica to the bed.

Ienzo replied. “His state may be volatile, but I assure you, we have taken several precautions. We plan to allow his mind and heart to recover here before transferring him to his holding chamber for questioning.”

Isa drew his lips into a line. All the researchers wanted was to probe Xemnas for information and data. Terra, it seemed, merely wanted his heart free of anyone but himself. Isa wasn’t certain what he himself wanted, but the thought of Xemnas being turned into a lab rat while the rest of them roamed free… It didn't sit right. He wondered if Xemnas even wanted to return.

Why should I care? He was a monster.

And so was I.

“You plan to keep him here, under lock and key?” Isa asked, his voice chilly.

“Is there an alternative? He is incredibly dangerous,” said Ansem. “We cannot let sentimentality put the lives of this world and others at stake.”

“It isn’t sentimentality." Isa's voice was sharp, eyes narrowing. "What power does he have now, without Xehanort, without the Organization? What goal? He knew he was never meant to exist at all. He was just another pawn.”

“You are letting your past ties blind you. Have you forgotten the lies upon which his Organization was built?”

“Of course not. Never." Isa glared at Ansem. How dare any of them pretend to understand how he felt? How dare any of them talk down to him on matters that he knew? “But we’ve all lied. We've all harmed, more than any of us can bear to admit aloud. Is he merely the scapegoat for our own wrongdoings?”

“That’s enough,” Even said firmly, stepping between Isa and Ansem. “We’re only taking precautions. That is all.” Ienzo shifted uncomfortably, a small frown appearing on his forehead, and Ansem huffed, turning his attention back to the computer. 

“Fine.” Isa looked away. He wondered what Lea would think, seeing Isa riled up like this on Xemnas’s behalf. And yet Isa couldn’t help it. If they, with their blood-stained pasts, deserved a second pass at life, then so, too, didn't Xemnas? The thought frightened him, but he couldn't shake it from his mind. Perhaps he was just trying to assuage his own guilty conscience. 

He stepped away from the others, arms crossed and face hidden. But before he could sink too deeply into a sulk, a sudden flash of white filled the room, casting an otherworldly hue over the equipment. Isa whirled around to see a burst of light emerge from Terra’s chest, shooting into the replica with enough force to jolt the bed on which it lay.

“That was quicker than expected,” mused Even.

“It looks like Terra was successful,” Ienzo said, scrambling at the keyboard. “He should wake soon, and the replica should begin taking shape immediately.”

Isa’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes glued to the replica. Its form began to change, limbs growing longer and filling out. There was another blinding flash, and Isa averted his eyes. When he looked back, there, in place of the empty doll, lay a body that had once been so familiar to him. His heart thudded in his chest, deafening him to the world.

There, in the laboratory where he had been born so long ago, lay Xemnas.

Chapter Text

He looked like he was asleep, his eyes shut and his lips slightly parted. His silver-white hair pooled around his bare shoulders, the light from the computer screens shifting across his chest as it slowly rose and fell. The sight, Isa thought, was strangely peaceful—it would have been in its entirety had it not been for the bands of leather that bound Xemnas’s wrists. Isa’s blood roared in his ears, the voices of the researchers distant and unheard as he took a few steps towards the pair of beds. His chest felt tight.

“Wait, Isa,” came Ienzo’s voice. “Stay back for now. We need to monitor his vitals, and there could be risks with close proximity if he wakes suddenly.”

Looking at Xemnas’s sleeping face, Isa couldn’t fathom any such risk. Even in the Organization, Xemnas had never been one for direct violence. And the expression on his face… it was so tranquil.

Before Isa could disobey Ienzo, Terra started to shift, his eyes fluttering open. Ansem went to his side, supporting him as he sat upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Terra looked around, slightly disoriented, but when his eyes landed on Xemnas’s prone body, he sighed in relief. “It worked,” he breathed, clutching his chest. His gaze dragged over to Isa, to whom he offered a small smile. 

“He has yet to wake,” said Even. “There could still be complications, given the unusual nature of his heart.”

Terra seemed unphased. “He’ll wake up,” he said, a curious gentleness to his voice. “I know it.”

“You spoke to him in the realm of sleep, I take it?” Isa wasn’t paying particular attention when Ansem spoke, his focus instead glued to Xemnas. He really was back, in flesh and blood. This time, there was no Organization, no Xehanort to spur his machinations, no strings to pull. Isa couldn’t help but wonder how Xemnas would feel upon waking, bereft of the purpose he had been created for. His mind raced with potentialities, some darker than others.

“Yeah,” Terra replied. “I saw him. He seemed… surprised, I guess. And a little sad.”

“He is still a Nobody,” declared Ansem. “And a manipulative one. He may have the beginnings of a heart, but he is not to be trusted.”

“Still,” said Terra, his voice firm and, Isa thought, perhaps a bit defensive. Interesting. “I don’t think he’s going to pose much of a threat anymore.” He looked at Isa. “You know what I mean, right, Isa?”

Isa’s eyes widened as four other pairs turned to look at him. “I…” he began slowly, glancing back at Xemnas’s sleeping form. “Yes. I agree.”

Ansem looked at him with suspicion, but he said nothing. Instead, he returned his focus to Terra. “Did he say anything to you?”

“We had a conversation,” said Terra, “but… I think it can stay between us.” He closed his hand where it still lay on his chest.

“Hmph.” Ansem busied himself reading the new strings of data that had appeared on the monitor beside Terra, deigning not to reply further. 

Isa, meanwhile, shifted his weight, the tightness in his chest unabating. “When will he wake?” he asked, looking between Terra and the other three. 

“I’m afraid we have no timeline,” Even said, adopting a posture Isa could only describe as academic. “The process could potentially take hours, even days. We have no way of knowing.”

“That long?” Isa frowned. “I don’t recall the other replicas’ recoveries being so lengthy.” 

Even glanced at him. “Impatient, are we?”

Isa’s frown deepened. “I—”

“Xemnas’s heart isn’t entirely complete. It will take him more time to adapt,” Ienzo said, coming to Isa’s rescue. “Where Roxas eagerly formed his own heart, Xemnas seemed to be more… reluctant to embrace the process. Although their origins were similar, they remain opposite sides of the same coin.”

“Don’t worry,” said Even, “we will monitor his progress carefully. You’re welcome to stop by now and then if you’re concerned.”

Isa returned his gaze to Xemnas. How many times had he seen him sleeping? How many times had he looked so peaceful? Saïx had never noticed. “Congratulations on your successful experiment,” Isa said coolly. That was how they all saw this, after all. Xemnas was nothing but a new toy, a means to an end. It was an ironic fate for him, of all people. One he deserved, arguably. But it still didn't sit right with Isa. Not when the same could be said for the rest of them. For him in particular. “Is he staying here in the lab?”

“Yes, for the time being,” replied Even. “Dilan and Aeleus will rotate shifts to keep an eye on him when we aren’t here. I assure you, we’ve prepared for this.”

“It’ll be okay, Isa.” Terra addressed him again as he stood, looking down at Xemnas. His brow furrowed, his eyes flitting across the features of Xemnas's face. “Is that... what I’m going to look like?”

“Give yourself another ten years, I suppose," Even said blandly.

"Hm." A faraway look came into Terra's eyes as he absorbed the details of Xemnas's appearance. Isa could only imagine how strange it must be, looking at a body that both should and shouldn't be yours. 

Isa's own gaze followed Terra's. It was difficult to look away. Even during his darkest days in the Organization, he never would have denied that Xemnas was beautiful, in an eerie, ethereal way, with his melancholy, melodramatic face and his graceful, feline movements. Here like this, sleeping peacefully with his silver hair spread around his head like a halo, Xemnas was picturesque.

Isa swallowed thickly. He wondered what Lea would say, should Isa have mentioned any such thoughts aloud. It was fortunate, he supposed, that Lea wasn’t the jealous one. Not that Lea ever made any mention of Saïx's involvement with Xemnas if he could help it.

“We can take it from here,” said Ansem, clasping his hands behind his back. “Terra, Isa, you may go.” 

Isa ignored him, striding over to the bedside opposite Terra. It was strange—he had never expected to see Xemnas like this again, to be so close to him once more. He certainly never expected the complicated tangle of feelings that sparked through his heart as he looked down at the man who had once been his superior. 

He had spent two past lives machinating behind Xemnas’s back. The first had been half-hearted and unfulfilled by the end, with more time spent between Xemnas’s sheets than making any real progress in one direction or another. The second, however, had ultimately culminated in betrayal, with Saïx's double agency restoring two Keyblade wielders to the side of Light. Isa, peering down, wondered if Xemnas knew the roles Saïx had played.

There was anger towards Xemnas in Isa's heart, still—of course there was. Xemnas had lied to him about what had mattered to him most. But now, looking down at Xemnas’s sleeping face, a strange pity welled in Isa's chest. He saw a man whose every move had been dictated to him by some twisted destiny, whose every waking moment had been spent living some part of a lie, some empty falsehood. Had Xemnas ever truly cared about Xehanort’s goals, or had he simply been marching to the beat of the only drum he’d ever known? Born from fragmented hearts and fragmented memories, Xemnas had never known what it was to be whole. It had never even been an option for him. Xemnas must have known that, too—known that all he ever was, and all he could ever be, was sheer nothing. Isa could only wonder what that must have been like. How much pain that kind of emptiness must have caused.

Gently, despite Ienzo’s warning, Isa touched Xemnas’s bound hand with his fingertips, his thumb darting over Xemnas's knuckles. It was some strange, base instinct, one he found himself acting upon before he even thought about it. Xemnas's hand felt warm beneath his touch. Just as he remembered.

Then, for the briefest moment, he thought he saw Xemnas’s fingers twitch.

Isa supposed he’d imagined it. But when Terra leveled his clear blue gaze at Isa, a knowing look on his face, Isa realized he’d seen it, too.

Even cleared his throat. “I wonder what Lea will have to say about all of this,” he said, the veil over his distaste gossamer thin.

“Lea won’t have a problem.” Isa lingered where he stood for a moment longer before following Terra back to the middle of the lab. Even snorted, and though Isa had stated otherwise, he dreaded Lea's opinion on the matter. Though Lea, unlike Isa, was always quicker to accept than reject, Xemnas was sure to be another story. Knowing this, Isa had been trying and failing to come up with excuses for why he didn't—couldn't—loathe their former Superior right alongside Lea. He still wasn't sure how to explain what he felt. 

“Thank you for all the help, Master Ansem, Even, Ienzo,” said Terra with a nod to each. “If you don’t mind, I have a few more things to discuss with you.”

“Certainly,” said Ansem. “I wish to hear of your experience with the power of waking.”

As they spoke, Isa made for the door. “You’re leaving?” Terra asked.

“For now,” Isa said as the door slid open. His hand on the frame, he squared his shoulders, looking pointedly out into the hallway despite the eyes that bored into his back. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

With that, he left, though not without catching a distinct “I told you” from Ienzo. He sighed shortly through his nose and realized, as he wound his way back through the labyrinthine halls, that he had no idea what time it was. When he emerged from the castle, feeling the late afternoon sun on his cheeks, he was surprised to find that it had only been a few hours. It had seemed much longer.

“How did it go?” Aeleus asked with no small amount of trepidation. He and Dilan, ever vigilant, were still outside.

“He’s asleep,” Isa replied. May as well get straight to the point. “Even says he could take a while to wake.”

Dilan whistled through his teeth. “Suppose we’ll get all the details soon enough. Did he look just like you remembered, Isa? You always did see far more of him than we did.”

Isa ignored the barb. “He looks exactly the same, yes.” He paused, looking out at the garden. “I’m returning tomorrow to check on things.”

Aeleus sighed, and Dilan looked oddly victorious. “That’s five hundred munny from you, Aeleus,” Dilan said with a smirk.

Isa exhaled sharply through his nose, his head snapping back to look at the pair. “The two of you placed a bet?”  

“I told him you wouldn’t last a day before you came back,” said Dilan, his aura smug as he leaned on his lance. 

“I thought it would be at least a week,” grumbled Aeleus, fumbling for his wallet.

Isa glowered at the two of them, his already-thin patience rapidly deteriorating. At this point, he was used to the rumors and snide remarks about his relative closeness with Xemnas, but that didn’t mean he had to like them. Especially not in the face of all that was transpiring. "It was Ienzo's idea," he said. He supposed it was half true. "He seems to think I could manage damage control, should the need arise."

"I don’t doubt that you could," said Dilan, quirking his eyebrows in amusement. "Tell me, do you have any secret techniques?”

"Dilan," chided Aeleus, though Isa’s glare did little to quell the twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Isa pursed his lips into a scowl. He thought he might have liked the pair better as Nobodies. He marched wordlessly past them, back to the stone stairs and down towards the town. They could make whatever comments they liked. It didn't matter. Besides, he had a hurricane of more pressing thoughts swirling in his mind.

He would have to tell Lea, of course. Isa wondered if there was any chance of Lea understanding. Xemnas was a dark reflection of his other two friends, after all, and he had accepted Isa back with open arms, despite Saïx’s innumerable wrongs. Yet Isa knew it was all different. He knew that Lea's sympathies when it came to Xemnas would be far more limited than Isa's.

And Xemnas himself—how would he feel when he awoke? Isa remembered the crushing weight in his chest when he was first recompleted, the sheer overwhelming nature of feeling for the first time in ages. Would Xemnas be consumed by resentment and hate, or would he at last discover those other emotions that had so long been lost to him? Would he even be given the chance? Would it matter to Isa?

Isa’s skull throbbed.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he caught sight of the bright Gummi ship waiting for him in the square. He began heading towards it when he heard someone call out his name.

“Isa! Wait!” He whirled around to see Terra, out of breath from running, at the foot of the stairs. “Glad I caught you,” he said, wiping a light sheen of sweat off his brow. “I wanted to talk to you, just the two of us. Do you have a minute?” Isa glanced back at the Gummi ship.

“Yes. Care for coffee?”

They seated themselves at a shaded table in Twilight Town, Terra with a mug of tea and Isa with his third cup of coffee for the day.

“This is a beautiful world,” Terra said, glancing around. “The clock tower reminds me of home.”

“Hm.” Isa burned his tongue on his drink, frowning. “What did you want to talk about?”

Terra looked back at him with those earnest blue eyes. He looked to be a few years younger than Isa at most, though Isa supposed Terra was, in fact, older, if time spent as a disembodied heart counted for anything.

Terra sipped his own carefully. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the realm of sleep.” 

“I thought you said that was between you and him.”

“It was,” said Terra, shifting in his seat. “But I don’t think he’d mind if I talked to you.”

“You make it sound like the two of you are old friends.” Isa crossed his legs beneath the table.

Terra laughed at that, though he sounded a little sad. “When you’ve shared memories with someone, it’s hard not to feel a little closer than strangers,” he said.

 “You said before that I was in them,” Isa murmured. “How so?”

Terra cleared his throat. “Well, some of them probably should have stayed with Xemnas,” he said sheepishly, a faint redness coloring his cheeks. “But I guess they stood out.”

Isa took another immediate swig of scalding coffee to hide his own blush. He could have lived a lifetime without the knowledge that a relative stranger knew what he looked like under his clothes. He also could have done without the realization that he also knew far too much about what said stranger was packing. It couldn't be comfortable for poor Terra.

Terra cleared his throat. “There were others, too,” he continued quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Simple things, mostly. Not everything was always clear, but flashes of you were everywhere—fighting, working, sleeping. He liked being around you, it seemed like. In his own way.”

Isa looked down at the table, running his finger over a pattern in the wood grain. Fathoming the thought of Xemnas liking anything—aside, perhaps, from Kingdom Hearts—was alien to him. And yet he recalled enough curious displays from his superior that lent weight to Terra’s words. Odd glances and strange, gentle words; breakfast left on bedside tables; a seemingly endless supply of Saïx's favorite shampoo in Xemnas's shower. “I trust in you, Saïx,” Xemnas had so often said, despite Saïx's mutinous machinations. He so regularly seemed to be off in his own world, tasking Saïx with the day-to-day dealings of the Organization, that Saïx had always assumed it came from a place of apathy. Now, Terra’s words made him wonder.

“You speak about him with what sounds like fondness,” Isa said, tracing the rim of his cup with his finger. “You don't resent him for playing a part in your suffering?”

“It’s weird,” Terra mused, folding his arms. “I’ll never forgive Xehanort, that’s for certain. But, like I said before, I feel like there’s a difference between him and Xemnas. It may have been his heart in my body, but a Nobody starts as nothing but a body, right? Xemnas was as much me as he was Xehanort. He even saw memories of mine, it sounds like. His existence was never really his own, not completely." Terra sighed, long and deep. "I guess… it might be that I pity him.”

Isa stared down into his coffee, his reflection caught in the black liquid. He stirred it, making himself vanish into the ripples. “About the realm of sleep,” he said slowly. “What happened there?”

“I traced the connection between our hearts and found my way to his. It’s still fragmented, but there are enough pieces there for him to be him.” Terra looked pensive. “When I found him, he seemed surprised, more than anything else. And... sad. Like a broken man. Not the kind of man who can't feel anything, or who doesn't regret anything he did."

Isa could hear the echoes of Xemnas’s voice. It came back to him all too easily.  He thought of the Nobody King's tendency toward theatrics, and wondered what it was that Xemnas actually said to Terra while they were there.

“He told me about a couple things. How... he was feeling,” Terra continued. “When I told him we had a replica for him, he just laughed. I don’t think he would have come back if I hadn’t told him that you defended him.”

Isa remained quiet at that. He didn't meet Terra's eyes, staring down at the table instead.

“Once he heard that, he agreed to the process. I think,” Terra said thoughtfully, “you gave him hope.”

Isa stayed silent for a moment longer, his own heartbeat loud in his ears. “Hope for what?”

“A future.” Terra’s gaze was even and intense. “That’s what it seemed like to me, anyway. That’s why I wanted to tell you. You two are connected somehow, and I think if anyone can help him figure things out, it’s you.”

I can’t even figure myself out, Isa wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat. “I betrayed him,” he said, keeping his voice steely. “Twice.”

“He knows that,” Terra said with a small smile, “but I don't think he cares. At least not yet.”

Isa wasn't sure what that meant. “I’ll need to hear that from his own lips before I feel secure,” he replied. 

“I can’t say anything for sure, but I’m optimistic. I think he deserves a chance.” Terra sipped his tea. He was very polite, his habits reminding Isa dimly of Xemnas’s own. A Nobody starts as nothing but a body. A body and memories, Isa supposed. How strange would it be not to know where another person’s memories ended and your own began.

“What do you think?” Terra’s question sat in Isa’s mind for a moment. He thought a lot of things. 

“The rest of us from the first Organization were all offered a new chance at life,” Isa mused. When he looked at Terra, his gaze was resolute. “Even after everything we did, we’ve been given the chance to try again. Xemnas may have used us, but... he was also a pawn in a bigger game. I think… he deserves the same opportunity we’ve been warranted.”

Terra nodded. “It’s worth a shot.” He shifted in his seat, resting his wrist on the table. “You know, you remind me of someone.”

Isa raised his brows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” said Terra. “Someone special. It makes you easy to talk to.”

Isa laughed at that. “That’s not a comment I often get.”

Terra shrugged, smiling softly. “I think she’d like it here, too. Maybe we’ll come visit another time.”

“I’m sure Lea would be happy to catch up,” said Isa. Then, tentatively, “Stay in touch.” He wasn’t used to keeping up communication with anyone but Lea, but he supposed it was never too late to learn.

“Will do,” Terra replied with a smile. “You’re going back to Radiant Garden tomorrow, right?”

Isa nodded. “Just in case. Although Dilan and Aeleus seem to think mocking me for it is a worthy pastime.” He wasn’t sure why he mentioned as much. It was strange—Terra did feel easy to talk to.

Terra raised his brows quizzically. “Why?”

“For some reason, everyone seems to think that Xemnas and myself make for riveting conversation.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Terra said with a laugh, clear and warm. “It’s probably just nerves.”

“Oh, it’s nothing new,” muttered Isa, swirling the dregs of his cup before draining it. Despite the tone of his voice, he felt lighter than he had in months. 

He and Terra spoke for a while longer, about restoration and training and the personalities of Radiant Garden. At last, Terra stood, gathering up his teacup. 

“I should get going,” he said as Isa did the same. “Thanks for talking with me today.”

“Certainly. Thank you for the… insights into the situation with Xemnas.”

“Of course. I feel like things are going to work out.” Terra placed a hand on his hip, stretching. “I’m glad to have met you, for real this time. It’s good to have another friend who knows what it was like to… you know.”

A friend? It had been a long time since Isa had been described as such by anyone but Lea. He nodded, a warmth in his chest. “Yes, it is. Take care.”

“I will,” said Terra. “Don’t let the apprentices rile you up too bad tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine,” Isa said with a small smile. “See you.”

“I’ll bring Aqua next time,” Terra said, returning it with a wave as he headed back towards the town. “See you.” With that, he struck the pauldron on his shoulder, zipping off on his glider to a chorus of impressed oohs and ahs from the townspeople. 

Isa gathered up his things and began to wind his way back home. There were still uncertainties plaguing his mind, plenty of possibilities that made his anxiety spike, but at the same time, he had a new purpose. He’d been unable to save his and Lea’s other friend from long ago, but this time, he wouldn’t let Xemnas disappear. If he had the chance to return one more lost life, he would take it.

Chapter Text

The next day was largely uneventful. Lea had yet to return, and Xemnas’s stasis remained unchanged, though the bed on which he lay had been moved to a remote corner of the laboratory. Only Ienzo and Aeleus were present when Isa arrived—Even and Ansem apparently had another unrelated matter to attend to. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Aeleus had at least apologized. “Our bearing was much less than professional. Your business and your feelings are your own.”

Isa was pleasantly surprised. Aeleus, he supposed, had always been more of a gentle giant than the other members. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, brushing it off. “Sorry you lost the munny.”

Aeleus just chuckled, resuming his stony presence near the door of the lab. Ienzo looked curious, but said nothing.

“Is there any new information, Ienzo?” Isa asked, leaning back against the wall nearest Xemnas. Looking down at his thick lashes, Isa wondered if Xemnas’s eyes, too, had changed with Xehanort’s absence from his heart. The memory of their piercing amber hue was vivid in his mind.

“Not about his state,” Ienzo admitted, “but we have been devising our planned inquiries, as well as preparing his facilities.”

“Where will you be moving him?”

Ienzo shifted, a crease forming at his brow. He looked uncomfortable. “Downstairs,” he said simply. “At least at first.”

A shiver ran down Isa’s spine. The memory of human screams emanating from the basement was still crystal clear. It was there that he had met the girl with Lea, where they had learned of the experiments performed by Ansem, Xehanort, and the apprentices. The thought of those facilities coming back into use in any capacity made him uneasy. 

“Do you plan to interrogate him, or to test on him?” Isa’s words were bitter, though he supposed Xemnas would have found the whole situation ironic.

“He still has the potential to be dangerous, Isa,” Ienzo insisted, a note of plea to his voice. “We don’t know what powers he may have retained, or if Xehanort’s consciousness still has a hold on him. We’re just being careful.” Isa realized with a glimmer of guilt that Ienzo, too, was uncertain. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Isa said quietly. 

“I—” Ienzo squirmed. 

“What else could we do?” Aeleus interjected, defensive of Ienzo. “Let him wander off on his own?” 

“We did, didn’t we?” Isa found it more difficult than usual to keep his voice even. “We were all dangerous. And yet here we are.”

“We changed,” Ienzo said, his brow furrowed. “We don’t know yet if he has.” 

Isa sighed. Arguing was pointless. They wouldn’t know anything until Xemnas woke.

“I suppose you’re right.” It felt like a lie—somehow, though he could never explain it, Isa was certain they had nothing to fear. “Call me if anything changes. Thank you both,” he said flatly, straightening to leave. Ienzo offered him a weak wave goodbye, Aeleus a simple nod, and Isa once again took the familiar trip back to Twilight Town. 

Hurry and wake up, he thought to himself as he walked back through the forest. Show them what I know you can be.

He let his feet guide him aimlessly through the town, his head filled with memories. Xemnas’s uncanny ability to avoid Vexen’s impromptu inquisitions, his propensity towards staring up at Kingdom Hearts for hours on end. The way that, as the years went on, Xemnas seemed to seek out Saïx deliberately for updates or to ask for his input on new findings. “I trust in you, Saïx.”

Isa was knocked abruptly out of his reverie when he collided head-on into some poor soul who had been running the opposite way on the street. He felt something cold through his jacket, glancing down to see two chilly blue stains on his abdomen. Ice cream...? He blinked, disoriented.

“I’m so, so sorry,” said the girl who had run into him. She sounded so distressed. Isa wiped away what he could of the mess with his fingers, looking down at her.

“No, it was my fault, I—” His eyes went wide at the sight of the black-haired girl in front of him, a look of terror on her face. "Xion?"

“Saïx!” She squeaked, holding the squished remains of two ice cream bars close to her chest. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, I should have been more careful—I’m so sorry about your jacket—”

“It’s okay,” Isa said gently, peeling off his soiled jacket and folding it over his arm. A wave of guilt wracked his heart at the sight of Xion’s fearful expression. The sudden sight of Isa’s scarred face must have brought back bad memories. He wasn’t certain he had ever seen her on her own, without Lea or Roxas, since he had come back. “Really. It’s easy to clean. Are you all right?”

“Mhm,” she mumbled, though she looked sadly down at the ruined dessert in her hands. 

“It was my fault, really,” Isa said. He bit the inside of his cheek, debating whether to send her on her way or to try and talk to her. “Let me buy you some more,” he decided. “My treat.”

Xion looked shocked. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, “if that’s all right with you.”

She smiled shyly at him. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Everyone always says that with such surprise,” Isa grumbled, though he regretted the joke when he saw Xion’s timid look in response. 

They walked back to the nearby sweets shop, Xion trailing behind him after tossing the ruined bars. Isa pulled out his wallet when they got close. “Two sea-salt ice creams, please,” he said, holding up two fingers. He thought for a moment, then held up another finger. “Actually, make it three.” Xion giggled a bit as he took the bars from the vendor.

“There you are,” he said, handing two to her. “Good as new.”

“They are new,” Xion said, a hint of laughter in her voice. 

“Exactly,” said Isa. He smiled at her, trying to dispel his awkwardness. “I’m sorry for frightening you.”

“I’m sorry for stabbing you with ice cream,” replied Xion.

“Better than a few possible alternatives.” Isa unwrapped his bar, taking a bite. The flavor was distinctly nostalgic. He missed Lea, he realized. Isa still slept in Lea's bed each night, saw him often, but had been distracted enough that he hadn't noticed what felt like the danger of distance. Or maybe the distance was already there. “Back to Roxas?”

“Yup,” said Xion. “Summer vacation is almost over, I guess. We’re enjoying it before school starts.” She looked down at her two treats. “Is school scary?” she asked. The earnestness in her gaze pierced Isa’s heart. 

“Compared to what you’ve been through? Not at all,” said Isa as they walked. “You’ll have teachers, and assignments, and time to spend with friends. It’s like being in the Organization, but nicer. You’re going to be fine.” 

“Thanks, Saïx,” Xion said. “I mean—Isa.” As they neared the alley that now led to the mansion, she paused. “Axel is training off-world, right?”

Isa nodded.

“Well,” said Xion, shuffling her feet. “If you’re lonely, you could come hang out with Roxas and me. Unless you think that’s lame.”

The warmth that bloomed through Isa’s chest was unexpected. Guilt still riddled him, but the fact that Xion, of all people, was worried about him being lonely… “I don’t think that’s lame,” he assured her. “But you don’t have to feel obligated to spend time with me just because I got you ice cream.”

“That’s not it!” Xion protested. “Really. You’re Axel’s friend, so you’re ours, too, if you want to be.”

“I…” Isa felt a knot threatening to form in his throat. What was happening these days? “I would be honored to be your friend.”

“You’re so serious all the time, Isa,” Xion said, nudging his arm lightly with her elbow. “When is Axel going to rub off on you?”

“And turn me into a clown?” Isa smirked playfully. “I don’t think so.” 

Xion giggled again, and Isa’s heart surged with sudden affection. This girl, born from fragments of memories and a replica body, had birthed her very own heart, her own identity, despite the forces—Saïx included—that had tried so desperately to deny as much. In the face of so much tragedy, she was still here, enjoying ice cream on a warm summer’s day and inviting Isa, of all people, to be her friend.

It was possible.

“Thank you, Xion,” Isa said, suddenly pensive. “I have things I need to take care of today, but before the two of you start school, I would love to… hang out. Unless,” he added with a crooked smile, “you think that’s lame.”

Xion’s laughter was bright and bubbly, like a spring rain. “Sounds good,” she said with a smile.

“Hurry home,” Isa said. “Your ice cream is going to melt.”

Xion waved him goodbye with a smile, running back to the mansion. Isa watched her form disappear around the corner before he returned home himself, the taste of sea-salt ice cream sweet on his tongue.

Lea returned home late that evening, his arrival forecast by a text that read, “got whipped good. omw.” There was a little smiley next to it, followed by a picture of Lea and Kairi making obnoxious faces. Isa smiled at it, tossing the note he had left on the stove from yesterday and sending back a message that said, “Yay... Need to talk.”

When Lea got home, Isa was surprised by the concern evident on his features. “Hey,” he said, hurriedly dumping his bag in the entryway. “What’s up? You okay?”

Isa looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Lea raised a thin eyebrow, pointing to the screen on his phone. “Your scary text,” he said, as if it was obvious. “The ellipses? ‘Need to talk?’ You made it sound like there's trouble.”

Isa cocked an eyebrow. "I didn’t realize ellipses and the concept of talking were scary.”

Lea sighed, looking equal parts relieved and exasperated. “I don’t think the tone you were shooting for conveys well through text. So you aren’t going to try and kill me?”

Isa chuckled, a little embarrassed by his evident lack of know-how. Lea was the only person he ever texted, after all—though he wondered now if that would someday change. “No, not today. How was training?”

“Well, I’m beat,” Lea said, melting down onto the couch. “Kairi stopped by between her training sessions with Aqua and, putting it lightly, kicked my ass.”

Isa’s ears perked up. “She’s training with Aqua now?”

“Yup,” said Lea, a look of pride on his face. “And doing great. She’s gonna have Sora wrangled back here in no time. Aqua must be quite the master.”

“I spoke with Terra yesterday,” Isa said. “He spoke of her highly, too. They’d like to come visit sometime.”

Lea’s brows shot up. “Since when were you and Terra buddies?”

“Since yesterday,” Isa said, smiling. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Lea groaned. “Oh, great,” he said. “Just because Terra’s biceps are bigger than mine—”

“Lea,” Isa said firmly, folding his arms. “It’s not anything like that. Besides, he has Aqua.” His tone was teasing, and Lea relaxed a bit. 

“Well, fair enough,” he said, stretching out. “So, what’s up?”

Isa’s voice grew serious. “It’s about Xemnas.”

Lea immediately sat back up. “What? Did something happen?”

“Yes,” said Isa, sitting beside him. “Terra delved into the realm of sleep yesterday. Xemnas’s heart has been transferred to a replica. Ienzo called and asked me to be there.”

“What?" Lea’s voice grew impassioned, anxiety shining in his eyes. "That fast? Why didn’t you call me? What’s going on?” 

“He hasn’t woken up yet. They don’t know how long it’ll take before he wakes.”

Lea passed a hand over his face. “I thought the whole point of everything was to get rid of Xehanort for good. Now you’re telling me they’re bringing him back? On purpose?"

“Xemnas isn’t Xehanort,” Isa stated, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “That’s what I talked to Terra about. Xemnas had memories from him, too, and Terra was able to see fragments of Xemnas’s. He was born from Terra’s body, after all.”

“Yeah, and Xehanort’s heart. That’s kind of a big deal.”

“I know that,” said Isa, leaning forward on his knees. “But Nobodies start as nothing but a body and memories. The heart Xemnas grew was his own, yet he was never given a path of his own to follow. He was bound to Xehanort then, but he isn’t any longer. You see what I mean?”

Frowning, Lea looked down at the table. “You wanna give him a chance.”

Isa nodded. “I do.”

The exhale Lea gave was pointed. “How do you know the heart he grew wasn’t based on, I don’t know, how much he loves being evil? I thought you had to have some kind of a connection to rebuild a heart, and he definitely wasn’t the Organization’s socialite.”

“Terra told me about the memories he saw. Xemnas’s heart did make a connection.” Isa didn’t meet Lea’s eyes when he spoke.

Lea’s brows raised again, and he turned to look at Isa. “Really? With who? Xigbar?”

Isa stayed silent. Gradually, a look of realization dawned on Lea’s face.

“Oh, no. You can’t be serious.”

“It makes sense,” Isa said, fidgeting with his sleeve. “Don’t you think?”

“So that’s why Ienzo asked you to go.” Lea’s voice was subdued. “So if Xemnas woke up, his favorite pet could be there to keep him calm.”

Isa’s head snapped up to look at Lea, his scar crumpled. “You, too?” Bitterness dripped from his voice.  

Lea’s eyes went wide for a moment before narrowing in disbelief. “You don’t really think—”

“I think,” said Isa, “that if we, a pair of scheming murderers, can be welcomed back into personhood alongside a team of scientists who performed live human experimentation, then so, too, can Xemnas.” He balled his hands into fists. “When I woke up, after years of running the Organization for him, after everything I did, no one batted an eye before letting me walk out into the world. But the sheer idea of Xemnas even existing is too much?”

“Isa—”

“I’m not saying you can’t hold a grudge, or that you have to forgive him. I’m just saying that he deserves the chance to change that we were given.” Isa looked down at his hands, letting his fingers unfurl. “If, after the first time, I had never awoken, would you have written me off completely? Or would you have wondered what I could have been?”

Lea was stunned into silence, his expression unreadable. Then, at length, he sighed, long and deep. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll give him a chance, too. But if he pulls anything—”

“I don’t think he will,” Isa said, cutting him off. “He has no reason to.”

Lea’s lips drew into a line. “I guess you knew him best. Looks like you see something in him that the rest of us don’t.” He sounded uncertain. Not quite suspicious, but something edging towards it. Isa's stomach churned.

“Maybe,” Isa murmured. “Please, Lea. Trust me this time.”

“I’ll have your back, baby, no matter what.” Lea flashed him a cheeky grin, though it was somewhat half-hearted. It faded quickly into a more contemplative expression. “I didn’t realize you... cared about him so much.”

"Caring about him is putting it strongly.” Isa's mouth had tightened. Did he care about Xemnas? “I just—”

“Didn’t realize he had more than the hots for you all those years? Man, you’re dense.” Lea smiled a little, but it was strained.  

“How was I supposed to know anything he truly felt? You didn’t notice, either,” Isa jabbed back.

“Hey, I’m dense, too,” Lea said, raising his hands in surrender. His gaze grew gentle as he took Isa’s hand in his own. “I love you, Isa. I’ll support you, no matter what happens.” 

Isa looked at him, his heart aching strangely. “Thank you, Lea,” he said, and he kissed him.

Chapter Text

All he knew now was darkness. There would be brief flashes where he was roused from his oblivion, where he would glimpse something beyond the nothingness for just a moment—but, regardless of these flashes, the emptiness that enveloped him was absolute. He wandered, ghosts of color and light dancing on his eyelids, knowing they were not his to see. He had returned whence he came, to the swirling pool of naught.

So why, on the horizon, did a light approach?

He opened his eyes. A window of stained glass lay beneath his feet, wistful thorns twining over shadows of faces in hues of white and gray. The platform was fractured, the pieces unaligned, some of them missing altogether. Around him, there was darkness, all-consuming black. Only the single pinprick of light grew steadily closer. Gradually, agonizingly, it grew into a burst, blinding and bright, before materializing into a form he recognized. It was a man in old-fashioned garb, with dark hair and shining eyes. 

“Hello, Xemnas,” said Terra.

“Why do you come?” The thorns below continued their languid writhing, spilling over the edges of the broken platform.

"You've been asleep," came Terra’s voice, a strange echo around its edges. "I'm here to help you wake up."

“Sleep? Oblivion is not sleep. My role is complete. I am simply waiting to disappear.”

“You left too much of yourself behind to ever really disappear." Terra placed a hand over his chest. “You left a heart, and it found its way into mine.”

"Ah. So you wish to expel me for good. By all means, proceed. I have no objections."

"It's not like that. It's true, I want my heart to be my own, but I'm not just casting you out. We have a replica waiting for you. You can finally be whole again."

A bitter laugh echoed through the emptiness, swallowed by the endless chasm. "I have never been whole. My purpose was fulfilled. Xehanort is gone. What motive is there for my return? To permit vengeance for those who wish it?"

"No," Terra replied, his gaze resolute. "We've seen plenty of the old Organization members return to pick up the pieces. Don't you want that, too?"

"Unlike them, I do not have a life to which I may return." Wistfulness. "As you, of all people, know well enough."

"Then make one. Others have, and you can, too."

Bitterness, then, and melancholy. Burgeoned feelings that had grown familiar. "Others have companions. What few I had, I took for granted. They will not return to my side. Any existence of mine would remain one of loneliness."

"You're lonely?"

Silence.

"I've seen glimpses of your memories," Terra continued. "Your heart has a connection. I've seen him."

Sorrow, deep and roiling as the depths of the sea. "He, least of all, would wish my return." 

"That's not true." Terra’s voice was gentle. "Right now, he's out there waiting for you. Can you see?"

Flashes of blue, of a voice like cool water. "He bears no true fondness for me. His motivations have long since lain elsewhere, for as long as he stood at my side." There was no animosity, just acceptance.

"It's more than that. He vouched for you, Xemnas. I think he wants you to have a chance at a life of your own."

Grief was so much worse when mingled with hope. "My memories were built upon those that were not mine. All I have ever known beyond Xehanort's will was chasing the bonds that defined you. Why, now, should that change?"

"That path is yours to find," said Terra. "But you aren't as alone as you think. Some may doubt you, but he'll be there, just as he is now. I know it."

Silence. Thought. That horrible pinprick of hope, piercing painfully through the sedated haze of nothingness. There was no real reason to return. It was, as all things were, futile. And yet longing echoed in his chest at the distant sound of that soft, clear voice, those flashes of cobalt. "I take it the apprentices are monitoring this?"

"Yes," said Terra. "They want to discuss a few things with you, too. You could show them that you can change."

"You speak with such confidence in me."

"Xehanort's gone. You started with as much me in you as him, and now, you're just you." Terra's clear eyes were striking. "You can do this, Xemnas. Let yourself."

There had always been such surety to his deeds, a track from which he could not deviate. To pursue this, these potentialities… 

"It will take time for my heart to complete the process." Such was the nature of the fractured glass beneath their feet.

"I know. It's okay."

A pause. A deep breath, a level gaze. "You're certain?"

"Xemnas. Do you want to keep him waiting?" A small smile formed on Terra's lips.

Xemnas, for the first time in a long while, smiled back.

It had been seven days since the replica took his form. For seven days, Isa had regularly returned to Radiant Garden, standing over his sleeping body and needling the researchers. Even was getting frustrated, though whether by the incomprehensibility of the incoming data or Isa's own inquiries, Isa couldn't say. Ienzo dodged most questions, and Ansem was a rare sight entirely. Isa supposed the face of the man who had so ultimately betrayed him was less than a welcome sight.

He wondered if Xemnas would feel the same upon seeing Isa himself.

On the seventh day, Isa took up what had become his usual spot beside Xemnas. Even had ostentatiously placed a chair there a few days prior. "Anything new?" he asked, foregoing the chair for the time being and leaning back against the wall.

Even shook his head tiredly. "I would have already told you if there was." 

Isa felt a glimmer of embarrassment. Perhaps he was a fool, after all. Perhaps he should have stayed home, waited for a call, resumed his usual business. He exhaled sharply through his nose. As if his own restlessness wouldn’t have gotten the better of him, anyway. Keeping a distance had never worked out for him before. 

He decided to change the subject. There were only so many ways the scientists could say “We don’t know.”  

“How is the restoration coming along?” he ventured. 

Ienzo brightened up a bit. “It’s going well,” he said. “We plan to begin the teardown of Villain’s Vale in the coming weeks. Cid and Merlin have developed some incredible new machinery to aid in the operation, and it's nearly negated the surge in Heartless numbers we've seen lately. We’re optimistic about the smoothness of the process.”

Isa nodded, only half-listening as Ienzo rattled off a series of plans for infrastructure and project development. He supposed Villain’s Vale was an eyesore. It was good to see the bits and pieces of his old home coming back together. Glancing back to Xemnas, he wondered what sort of plans they hoped to develop with his insights, if any. Dimly, he realized they had never bothered to clothe Xemnas beyond the thin sheet, merely pulling it up to his shoulders after removing the wires that had been attached to his chest. At least, he remembered, Xemnas ran quite warm, even despite the chilliness of the castle.

“Ienzo, dear, he isn’t paying attention.” Even’s voice cut through Isa’s absent thoughts.

“Yes, I am,” Isa said indignantly, snapping his attention back to the pair.

“What did he just say?” Even’s gaze was chilly, though faint amusement at Isa’s expense glittered in his eyes.

“Er… Villain’s Vale,” Isa said. Even raised a brow, and Ienzo looked a little sheepish. “Sorry. I suppose I… got distracted.”

Even snorted, though he didn’t seem too upset. “You always did have a one-track mind.”

Isa’s cheeks turned faintly pink. He knew Even wasn’t wrong. “I’m glad to hear the process is moving forward, all the same.”

“Hopefully this process eventually will, as well,” said Even, jutting his angular chin towards Xemnas's body. “He’s taken even longer than you did to wake. Do you have any ideas?”

Isa frowned. “Unfortunately, I don’t. He will wake on his own terms, I’m sure.”

“You see something in him that we don’t.” Ienzo’s words startled Isa, calm and collected as they were. A precise echo of what Lea had said. “What is it about him that fascinates you so?”

Isa’s eyes went wide. “Fascinates me? I don’t know that I—”

“You know what he meant,” Even cut him off. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

What, indeed. Isa had certainly been thinking about it enough over the course of the last week, enough that Lea had come home yesterday with a squirt bottle, threatening to spray him any time he started frowning too deeply. 

“I suppose,” he began slowly, “I wonder what he could be. In the Organization, as the Superior, he… was manipulative. He lied, and he misled, but—so did we. So did I. Was it to survive, like us? Or was that his truest self? I’m not certain.” He took a deep breath, his eyes lighting on Xemnas’s face. It hadn’t moved a muscle since he had first seen it a week ago, perfect in all its peaceful angles. He tore his gaze away, focusing his attention on a chipped tile on the floor. “There was also a sentimentality to him. A tragedy. Parts of Terra that he couldn’t forget, even without a heart. He was… complex, born between light and dark and nothing. I suppose, like this, with a heart of his own, I…” Isa felt exposed, avoiding the eyes that stared at him so insistently. Instead, he stared hard at the ground, folding his arms. “I wonder who he can become."

There was silence for a moment. The researchers were both perfectly still, and Isa was annoyed that they seemed to have nothing else to say.

“Isa,” came Ienzo’s voice at last, barely more than a whisper. 

“Does that answer your question?” Isa muttered. He had never liked baring his thoughts so plainly. He much preferred to give vague, roundabout answers.

“Isa,” said Even, more insistently. “Look.” 

Isa, puzzled, looked up at the two scientists. Their expressions were trained on something. He followed their line of sight to where Xemnas lay, and his heart skipped a beat.

There, he met the gaze of a dark, amber pair of eyes.

Isa's breath stopped.

Xemnas had shifted only slightly, just enough to turn his head. His eyes hadn’t changed much. It could have been a trick of the light, but Isa thought they perhaps looked a bit warmer, a deeper brown-orange than they had been as Xehanort’s vessel. They reminded him of cinnamon.

“Hello, Saïx.” His voice, though slightly hoarse from disuse, was soft and rich as velvet. It sent a strange shiver down Isa's spine. “Though I suppose it’s... Isa, now, isn’t it?”

Isa nodded, his chest hitching. “Welcome back,” he managed to say through the dryness of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ienzo take a few steps back, his head tucked down as he shuffled towards one of the computers. At the movement, Xemnas’s gaze dragged over both scientists. He blinked slowly, with all the grace and intensity of a wildcat. Despite his apparent long rest, however, he looked tired. He made no move to sit up.

“Even. Ienzo.” He said their names slowly, as if trying them out on his tongue.

“Yes, welcome back,” said Even. His voice, Isa was somewhat surprised to hear, was firm. “Took you long enough to wake.”

A dry, rumbling laugh washed over Isa. “Did it, now?”

“It’s been a week since you started taking up a seven-by-three-foot portion of my laboratory, yes. How do you feel?” Even spoke brusquely, all business while Ienzo attended to the technical side of things. Isa merely stood by, watching, his arms folded tightly over his chest. It was strange, to say the least, seeing Xemnas there, hearing him speak.

Xemnas shifted his weight beneath the sheet, lifting his head to look down at where he lay. He seemed to have noticed the leather straps that bound his wrists and ankles, and he tested them lightly. Isa watched, chewing on his inner cheek as Xemnas seemingly decided that trying to brute-force his way out of his bonds was an unnecessary endeavor. Xemnas sighed.

“It would be remiss of me not to admit that I have, in fact, felt far better.”

Isa couldn’t stop a short, breathy laugh from escaping his nose at Xemnas’s words. He remembered his own waking, being filled suddenly and violently upon completion by the ferocity of human emotion. He wondered if Xemnas was experiencing the same thing. The thought, for some reason, struck him as unbelievably funny. Emotionless, stoic Xemnas, overcome with feeling. How the tables could turn.

“I see. Physically or mentally?" As Even spoke, he went to the bookshelf at the other end of the laboratory, withdrawing a notebook Isa recognized as the one from last week. Pulling a pen from the pocket of his lab coat, he flipped the notebook open and scratched down a few details. Ienzo continued to type away, hidden behind the screen and his curtain of hair.

“Indeed,” was Xemnas’s flat reply. Even quirked up a brow, and had it been anyone else, Isa would have snorted at the response. It was almost a joke, though he wasn't sure whether Xemnas had intended it to be one or not. Meanwhile, Xemnas took a deep breath, his exhalation slow and long as if testing his lungs. His eyes sank shut again, and if it weren’t for the slight furrow at his brow, Isa would have thought he had fallen back into sleep. “A heart is quite the burden, isn’t it?”

“It seems that way sometimes,” Isa intoned softly. “But it's a precious gift, in the end.”

Xemnas’s eyes fluttered back open when Isa spoke, his gaze landing on him once again. "Is that so?" His voice was quiet and, Isa thought, rather wistful. 

"I'm going to get Master Ansem," Even declared. "Ienzo, Isa, stay here. I will alert Dilan and Aeleus, as well."

"Do you fear me?" Xemnas's brows furrowed upward. He looked a little sad, though Isa wasn't certain how veritable the observation was. Just as Isa hadn’t forgotten how to mask his voice and feelings, he doubted that Xemnas had forgotten how to manipulate his own. It was still too strange to think of Xemnas experiencing the broad potentials of human feeling in earnest.

"We are exercising caution," Even replied, "Nothing more."

Xemnas's expression neutralized, unreadable as it had so often been. He turned his head to the opposite wall with another deep sigh. "Do as you will. I pose no threat."

"Wonderful, seeing as you've always been one to foster truth and trust." Even's words dripped with sardonicism, and Isa was surprised to see what looked like a glimmer of hurt on Xemnas's face. It was gone as soon as Isa saw it, shifting immediately into a flat, even look of understanding. Even turned to Ienzo. He was a formidable presence when so focused. "Stable?"

"Looks like it," Ienzo said with a quick nod. It was the first time he'd spoken since Xemnas awoke.

"Very well. I'll be back." With that, Even turned on his heel and strode out of the lab, notebook in hand. The door slid shut behind him, leaving Ienzo and Isa with Xemnas.

"It is good to see you again, Ienzo," Xemnas said, as though commenting on the weather. "You have always been quite capable. Your fate in my Organization was unfortunate, and for that, I apologize."

Ienzo’ eyes widened. “I—well—thank you, I suppose.” Visibly uncomfortable, Ienzo flicked through a few displays on his computer, gathering his thoughts. “Your vitals look good. There’s been some muscle atrophy, but that’s to be expected. Your heart’s development has made exceptional progress, as well. The data suggests that you were able to recomplete the vast majority of it on your own.” He rattled the facts off quickly, sounding like he was speaking more to himself than to the other two.

"Is that so?" Xemnas murmured. "Is it possible to recomplete something that was never mine in the first place?"

"Er," Ienzo stalled, "well, I suppose the term 'actualized' more accurately describes the situation."

"Actualized," Xemnas repeated. "Interesting." He shifted again, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window overlooking the manufactory. His brow had creased into a frown.

“Ienzo,” Isa said, breaking an uneasy silence, “perhaps you should meet up with Dilan and Aeleus. Explain things on the way.”

“But Even is already—”

“I’m sure they would appreciate your added input, seeing as you’re the one who looked over the data.” Isa spoke pointedly, hoping Ienzo would get the hint. Thankfully, realization dawned on Ienzo’s face, and he nodded.

“I see. Yes, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll go. It won’t be long.” He shot Isa a knowing look before ducking out of the laboratory himself, the door sliding—and locking—shut behind him.

Isa, at last, slid down into the chair near Xemnas’s bedside, feeling Xemnas's eyes watching him. Being alone with him again felt familiar, yet profoundly odd. It was strange to see Xemnas like this, rent from his pedestal and power and strapped to a medical bed. No longer were they lord and adjutant, Isa realized. Now, they were both just men.

“So,” Isa said, folding his hands in his lap. “How long were you awake?”

A small smile crossed Xemnas’s lips. “Long enough.”

“That’s quite vague.”

Xemnas chuckled softly. “ ‘A sentimentality’ to me, you said,” he murmured, staring up at the ceiling. “An interesting observation.”

So he had heard Isa’s earlier spiel. Isa pursed his lips. “Would you speak to its astuteness?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side. He was surprised to find that a part of him had missed their strange, twining conversations. Lea always preferred things to be straightforward.

“Truthfully, I could not—not in any certainty. I feel that I no longer know who or what I am, nor even what I ever was,” Xemnas replied in that slow baritone of his. Strands of silver hair fell in front of his face as he turned to look at Isa, his expression softening. “But I suppose, after all, that I… missed you. Perhaps that counts for something."

His honesty startled Isa. Xemnas had never been one to speak plainly, preferring to hide his intentions behind layers of obfuscating riddles and odd, unreadable expressions. Out of sheer instinct, Isa almost responded with “We both know that isn’t possible.” The notion that such was no longer true, and perhaps hadn't been for a while, still baffled him. “Is that so?” he said instead, wondering if the pause before he had spoken had been as long as it had felt.

Xemnas did not reply further, merely looking at Isa with a doleful gaze softened by a gently furrowed brow and long, dense lashes. They were remarkably similar to Terra’s, Isa realized. Of course they were. “I spoke with Terra,” Isa said slowly, after a beat of silence. “He told me you knew about everything. The plots. The betrayals.”

“What else did he say?” Xemnas’s voice was perfectly smooth, its richness pleasant in Isa’s ears. He was surprised at that thought.

Isa stared back at Xemnas, suddenly acutely aware of his own pulse. “He said that you didn’t care. I find that difficult to believe.”

That strange, slight smile again. “Isa,” Xemnas said slowly, as if trying the name again. “You have never been a good liar. I have always known about the machinations you shared with Axel. You were hardly subtle.” A flush rose to Isa’s cheeks, coupled with no small amount of apprehension. And then Xemnas continued. “But no, I did not care. Do you think Xehanort, with all his grand plans, truly mattered to me? For the longest time, I could care about nothing. I was a means to an end—an empty creation given intent and purpose by another. All I knew was my own destiny, the fate that had been laid down with my conception. I saw no reason to modify yours."

Isa frowned. "Was your destiny not to enact Xehanort's will? If you knew, why didn't you stop me, as you did the other traitors?"

"I seem to recall that dealing with them was your idea." 

Isa squeezed his hands shut on his knees, choosing his words carefully. "One you agreed to the importance of. If you knew, why did you choose to confide so much in me?" 

"It seems as though you know." Xemnas spoke evenly, but Isa saw a glimmer of something in his eyes that he had never seen before. It pierced him to the core. "I would not have changed the expression of my trust, misplaced or otherwise."

Isa stalled for a moment, unsure what to think of Xemnas's words. He bit his lip for a moment before he spoke again. "I worked with Vexen to restore Roxas. I deliberately jogged Xion's memory. All of this with the goal of reuniting them with Lea. Even knowing this, your sentiment remains?"

"I will admit, that particular turn of events was surprising. But I do not believe I would have acted even if I did know. So, to answer your question... Yes. My sentiment remains." Xemnas's brow knit together more tightly, his expression one of deep thought. "It… is strange. I realize I should have been made furious by your plotting behind my back, and yet... I could not help but feel that all was held in the reins of fate."

"What do you mean?"

Xemnas’s gaze was unwavering, settled on Isa and Isa alone. "Companionship,” he said slowly. “I never understood it, not until it was far too late. I saw how it compelled you and the others, buoyed by past memories unknown to me in all regards. I did not know it for myself, not truly. But then, at the end... I saw what had driven you at last." Xemnas's words washed over Isa, striking him into silence. Xemnas straightened his head on the meager pillow, breaking their stare at last to look up at the ceiling. “I felt… alone. A loneliness of my own making. I could not—cannot—resent you, not knowing how sorely I took you all for granted. Especially you.”

“Xemnas—” Any eloquence Isa had was, for the moment, dashed. “You’ve changed,” was all he could manage. The familiarity of those words echoed across his tongue, though their bitter flavor this time was gone. In this case, they were etched with bewilderment and, he was surprised to find, warmth. He had known Xemnas better than most, had seen more quirks and sparks of personality than the rest of the Organization had ever been privy to. To see Xemnas like this, a wistful, tired, lonely, complete man—Isa felt a sudden burst of compassion surge through him. He knew how it felt to be alone, and he knew how it felt to be the only person responsible for it.

“The realm of sleep offers little but time for ample deliberation,” Xemnas murmured. He shifted to face Isa once more. “I have earned my place here as a specimen of study, but... I am grateful that the first face I awoke to see was yours.” 

Isa’s pale cheeks warmed faintly. Guilt shot through him as he thought of Lea, what Lea would think of the way Xemnas’s words had made his heart race. He wondered if Lea would—could—understand, when Isa didn’t himself. 

Mercifully, before he had time to formulate a reply or think overlong about anything, he heard the swipe of a keycard and the whoosh of the laboratory door sliding open. In strode Even and Ansem the Wise, tailed by Dilan, Aeleus, and a rather sheepish-looking Ienzo.  

“Tell me, Ienzo,” said Ansem, his voice low and his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room, “why you chose to leave the pair of them unsupervised.”

“I—” Ienzo looked guilty, and that guilt spread to Isa. He hadn’t meant for Ienzo to get in trouble on his behalf.

“It was my suggestion,” he interjected, pulling his gaze away from Xemnas. “I thought perhaps he could debrief Dilan and Aeleus on the way here.”

“I fail to see any present danger, Master Ansem,” stated Even, though the sharp glance he cast at Ienzo seemed to suggest the younger man was going to be on the receiving end of a scolding later. “Isa is quite capable.”

“I’m certain he is,” said Ansem, casting a chilly glance at Isa. Isa met his gaze unflinchingly, still seated beside Xemnas. The look on Xemnas’s own face was strange, his eyes lighting on each newcomer individually before looking back at Isa. He said nothing.

Isa, meanwhile, stood, casting a glance at Xemnas before meeting the others at eye level. “I can assure you, Master Ansem, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Of course he says that,” grumbled Dilan. Xemnas's brows raised almost imperceptibly at the remark. Almost. Isa grit his teeth, swallowing the retort that boiled on his tongue. Ansem came closer, the distaste on his face clear as day.

"Xemnas."

"Ansem," Xemnas replied, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. "Dilan. Aeleus. What a reunion this is."

Aeleus stiffened at his name, and Dilan just raised a thick eyebrow. Isa maintained a stony silence.

“Indeed,” said Even crisply. He turned to Isa. “I would like to discuss a few matters with you later, Isa, but in the meantime, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. The laboratory has become rather overcrowded at present, and you needn’t be here for our initial procedures."

Isa was ready to snap his dissent, but squared his jaw instead. “I see.” He wondered what those initial procedures would entail.

“You may return tomorrow, if you wish,” Ienzo said. “Go home and relax. I’m certain Lea will be anxious to hear the news.” 

Isa stiffened. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to what Lea would have to say about all this. Glancing around the room, he felt six pairs of eyes settle on him, and it made his skin crawl. Perhaps leaving for the moment would be best, after all. As he headed for the door, the only pair of eyes he met were Xemnas’s. They were trained on him still, level and piercing and gold as honey, and Isa hesitated for a moment before he replied to Ienzo. “I’ll be back tomorrow, then. Perhaps by then you’ll have offered him a change of clothes.” 

With that, he offered a brief nod to Xemnas, and he left, his own heart loud in his ears. 

Chapter Text

“Can you stand?” 

Even’s words were sharp in Xemnas’s ears. Recently regained as they were, his senses felt particularly... sensitive. The periphery of his vision was still blurred, though colors themselves stood out sharply. In particular, blue seemed to surround him; the glow of blue computer screens and blue circuitry, frosted blue glass, chilly blue tile on the floor. The thought of long, shaggy blue hair.

“I believe so.” His own voice reverberated in his chest. His chest—it felt so heavy. 

“Well and good,” came Even’s reply.

Even, tall and severe, the man who had once been number four in his Organization. Xemnas had often avoided Vexen, finding his long-winded reports tedious—yet now, looking at Even, a sharp twang coursed through his heart. Perhaps if he had simply listened to Vexen more often... The sudden thought furrowed at his brow. 

“We have facilities prepared for you. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable,” Ienzo added.

Little Ienzo, so young, so bright. Xemnas's star pupil for quite some time. Apprehension laced his clear voice, his narrow shoulders firmly squared. He had been number six, the last of the original apprentices to be turned. He had had so much potential.

Xemnas’s head hurt. “I see.”

“So taciturn. Maybe we should have kept Isa around to keep him conversational.” Dilan, with his slow, accented voice. Number three. He had been quite close to Xehanort once, when they had both been apprentices; one of the first and most willing to explore the darkness alongside him. His natural bitterness seemed not to have waned and he evidently had a few particular thoughts on Isa.

Isa.

Saïx.

Xemnas’s chest ached, a strange burn settling in the pit of his belly. So many years spent with little but the seedlings of a heart, and now here he lay, emotions surging painfully through the completed acquisition beating in his chest. For so long, he had known exactly what to do, free from the fetters of anything but his design. Xehanort’s design, he supposed it was. Xemnas himself had always been a pawn, after all; a masterful, omniscient one, more than capable of pulling strings of his own, but a pawn all the same. The role had suited him well enough—he had his flexibilities, his power, his castle, even a host of companions. All things he had so desperately taken for granted.

Now, he had nothing.

He had always been nothing, cobbled together from a stolen body and the shattered memories of lost hearts—yet here, with a heart of his own, he found himself less than he had ever been. Here, surrounded by once-companions who now loathed him, he was alone. Anger surged through him—or was it regret? Sadness? It had been so long. He wasn’t certain he remembered. All he knew was that his chest ached.

“Ienzo,” Even said, interrupting Xemnas’s thoughts. “Go with Aeleus to ready the chamber downstairs as we discussed. Dilan, would you do me a favor and find our Lord Superior something to wear? There should be something suitable in the supply closet cupboard.”

Dilan chuckled at the sardonic honorific, shooting a glance at Xemnas before he crossed the laboratory and disappeared through a thin door. Meanwhile, Aeleus gave a quick bow of his head to Even and Ansem before he turned to follow Ienzo out of the lab. He had always been quiet, never far from Ienzo; even in the Organization, he was fiercely protective of the young man. Number five, he had been. He departed behind Ienzo—downstairs, Even said. 

The irony didn’t escape Xemnas in the least.

“Your skill at planning has not waned,” he said to Even, craning his neck to look at the remaining pair of researchers. Ansem, in return, scoffed. He looked weary, more pained lines etched into his forehead than Xemnas remembered. It was strange; Xemnas had memories of his—Xehanort’s—apprenticeship to the Sage King, but they felt more distant than before, as if seen through a cloudy mirror.

From Ansem’s stony glower, however, it seemed that such a dim state of memory was not necessarily shared. Xemnas supposed such was to be expected—he bore the face of the one who had ripped away years of Ansem’s life, after all, and Xemnas himself had offered him his own share of cruelties. Xemnas even still carried the Sage King's stolen name.

“Do not assume flattery will get you anywhere,” Ansem intoned. “We all know just how trustworthy your words have proven to be.”

“A fair truth, indeed,” said Xemnas, a small smile stealing across his lips. “A lying fool lying to fools, would you say?”

Ansem laughed mirthlessly. “And fools have we all been. I hope only that today will not prove to be further folly.”  

“I suppose only time will tell,” Xemnas replied coolly. “The impetus lies on your shoulders once again, Ansem the Wise.” 

“To be entirely fair, he was at least correct about my skills,” Even said rather snobbishly. He strode over to Xemnas’s side, lifting the sheet enough to reveal the bindings around Xemnas’s limbs. Even frowned for a moment, casting a glance over his shoulder towards the supply closet. Dilan had just reemerged with a pile of white cloth in hand. “You’ll need to dress,” said Even, starting on undoing the leather straps around Xemnas’s wrists. “Isa has assured us repeatedly that you will not give us cause for concern. See to it that you don’t sully his good word with some attempt at escape.”

“And why might I attempt escape?” Xemnas asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. There had been a strange quiver in his heart at Even’s words. He vouched for you. Saïx. Isa.

“Don’t ask me,” snipped Even. “It’s not as though I’ve ever been made privy to your machinations.”

Xemnas merely chuckled as Even finished undoing the bindings on his wrists and forearms, shifting to undo the ones around his ankles. Xemnas flexed his fingers as he slowly sat up, rubbing his arms. His skin felt dry where it had been wrapped in leather. 

“Here are these,” said Dilan blandly, dropping the pile of clothes unceremoniously into Xemnas’s lap. “Grabbed the largest size. It should fit.”

The material was coarse beneath Xemnas’s fingers, the clinical garments almost entirely shapeless. “Thank you.”

Dilan shrugged. “Better than hauling you around naked. Though Isa might—”

“Dilan,” interrupted Ansem. “Stand guard outside until we are ready.”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Dilan. He did as he was told, leaning on his lance outside the lab with an irritated look on his heavily-sideburned face. Meanwhile, Even pressed a button on one of the displays, and an opaque, digitized divider suddenly appeared between Xemnas and the others.

“Change quickly, but be cautious when you stand. Your muscles may have atrophied somewhat.” Even’s warning was unheeded; Xemnas had already stood the moment the divider had gone up. He had just managed to pull on the baggy clothes when a wave of nausea washed over him, a sharp pain lancing through his skull. Inhaling sharply, he steadied himself on the bed and closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the antiseptic air. 

A week of sleep, Even had said, not considering the time Xemnas had spent inside Terra’s heart. Roxas had fallen into slumber for weeks before, as had Xion. Ventus had slept for years. Xemnas knew this latter fact to be true—however, just as the nausea began to subside, he realized that the memories he had once held of “his” old friend had dimmed. Like those of Ansem the Wise, memories of Ventus had become even more blurred than before. 

He tried to remember Aqua, then—at least what he had borne from Terra. There were flashes of unfocused smiles, gentle laughter, but they were distant, farther away than he remembered. Only glimpses of blue remained clear in his mind’s eye. Blue hair; long, vibrant azure—sharp, cold features, an expression like a spring frost—piercing, wild eyes—

“Are you quite all right? Decent?” Even’s sharp voice cut through the haze that had settled over Xemnas. He hadn’t realized how hard he had gripped the side of the bed, his head swimming and heart pounding. Everything hurt.  

“Yes.” Xemnas straightened, the floor cold beneath his bare feet. With a click, the divider dissipated, and he turned back to face the pair before him. His hand strayed to his chest, forming a fist over the ache there. “Does it always feel like this?”

“What? A heart?” Ansem’s rich laughter boomed through the laboratory. “You truly retained no memory of it?”

“It has been… a very long time,” Xemnas mused. “I cannot recall ever having felt this way.” 

“And how do you feel?” inquired Even, notebook and pen at the ready. 

Xemnas looked out at the Heartless Manufactory, catching sight of his own reflection in the glass. The stark white of his clothes and the silver of his hair made him look like a ghost. “As though a tremendous weight is sinking down on me. One I do not have the present strength to lift.”

Even pursed his lips, his expression softening slightly. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you might be feeling guilty.”

Guilt. Crushing, drowning guilt. Xemnas couldn’t help but laugh, a low, deep rumble that made Ansem frown. After all these years, free to run its impassioned course, guilt was what surged through him now. Years he had spent shut away behind lies and apathy—years he had spent cultivating the perfect manipulations, the perfect plans, leaving nothing but pain in his empty, unfeeling wake. Until it hadn’t been so entirely unfeeling—until flickers of warmth, sparks of affection stirred in the cavity of his chest, enough that Xigbar had noticed. And yet, even then, he didn’t stop marching to the beat of Xehanort’s drum. Not until it was far too late to turn back.

“An interesting hypothesis, to be certain,” replied Xemnas with a small, enigmatic smile. “I suppose we will have plenty of time to discuss any others that may arise.”

Even smiled back, and Xemnas was surprised to see that it looked rather genuine. “Indeed. Now, if you will follow me…”

While Xemnas remained in the company of the researchers, led deep into the bowels of the castle, Isa hadn’t gone far. 

After leaving the castle, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave Radiant Garden. Some strange gravity tethered him there—he couldn’t have said whether it was trepidation or exhilaration, but it simply didn’t feel right to leave. He had wandered to the Garden’s outer districts and booked a night’s stay at one of the dingy hotels there, in a small, modest room with a low price tag. A mismatched lamp sat on a rickety desk on one end while a well-worn, overstuffed armchair dominated the other, and the only thing adorning the cream-colored walls was a rather watery still life. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and Isa hoped the time alone would help him clear his head.

Thus far, it wasn’t working. 

Isa crossed his legs on the shabby bed, his eyes glued to his glowing phone screen. Lea’s name and picture—one Lea had set himself, of him giving the camera a wide smile and a cheeky wink—stared at him from the top of the display. “There were some complications. I need to stay in Radiant Garden tonight,” read the message Isa had just sent him. “Nothing to worry about,” he hastily added, hoping to dispel the inevitable concern at least a little. It wasn’t a total lie, he supposed. He had always been better at concocting half-truths than pure lies, after all. Lea, though, saw through him every time. He always had. So, Isa waited, staring at his screen until the tell-tale dots of Lea’s impending reply appeared in the corner. 

“he woke up?”

Of course. Isa inhaled sharply through his teeth, casting a glance outside the window. His curtains were only half-drawn and the sun had just started to set, a host of dust particles floating through the beam of light that streamed onto the carpet. Isa watched the dust drift for a moment until the phone buzzed again in his hand. 

“everything ok?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.”

“u sure? you know you can call me.”

“I’ll talk to you about everything soon. Be home tomorrow.”

“don’t keep me waiting too long. love u <3”

The last bit, silly as it was and coupled with the cheesy winking-kissing face Lea loved to send, sent a strange tingling sensation to the pit of Isa’s stomach. Love still felt so foreign to him, even like this. He had never expected to be on the receiving end again, not really—yet Lea gave it so freely, like it was all he’d ever known. It baffled Isa. Part of him wanted to hit the green call button, to spill every nebulous thought spinning around in his head and to hear Lea’s voice, but he was stopped by the thorn of guilt that had wriggled its way into his belly, too. 

He couldn’t stop thinking of Xemnas. Xemnas's eyes, his voice, his words, his strange, small smile. Isa knew that smile. He had seen it hundreds of times before, and yet it had taken him this long to piece together what it meant. A storm of feelings he couldn’t decipher swirled through his mind and heart—his brand of intelligence had never been of the emotional variety, and the many years spent without a nurtured heart certainly hadn’t helped. 

Isa sighed deeply, rubbing at the headache that had begun to pulse at his brow bone. Perhaps fresh air would do better than four walls. At least he had somewhere to retreat to when he needed to sleep. Slipping his phone and the room key into his pocket, he stepped back out into the crisp dusk air, the wind sharp against his cheeks. He had forgotten how chilly Radiant Garden got this time of year. 

Zipping his sweatshirt up higher, he snaked through the back streets of the city, towards the memory of where its outskirts should be. The sound of the fountains in the distance was pleasant, but he headed in the opposite direction, towards where the bailey was undergoing reconstruction. He kept his head down, doing his best to hide the scar on his face. Surely rumors had circulated at one point or another about the surly man with the X-shaped scar between his eyes. The crowds thinned as he ventured out, which worked well enough for him.

He slipped through the makeshift path laid out of the bailey and eventually found his way to a barren cliffside far outside of the town. The Restoration Committee’s reach apparently hadn’t spread this far yet—the air was clear, with the sounds of the city having grown dim in the distance. A few sparse shrubs had sprouted up, dotting the otherwise lifeless landscape, and they swayed in the gentle breeze. Isa swung his legs down over the cliff’s edge, looking out over the Great Maw. Parts of it appeared to be undergoing development, while the area closest to Villain’s Vale remained desolate. The sun had sunk low over the horizon, and the crooked towers and craggy structures of the old fortress cast long, spindly shadows over the landscape. Isa was sharply reminded of the horde of Heartless with which he had once helped to fill the Maw. It felt so long ago.

“That was Saïx,” Lea would have said, “not my Isa.” He insisted as much often, any time Isa began to dwell on the past, and Isa knew he meant well—and yet each time Lea said as much, it sent a pang through his heart. As much as he wished otherwise, Saïx was a part of him, and always would be. Everything Saïx had been had come from leftover fragments of Isa, and now Isa felt splinters of Saïx at every turn. Whether any of them liked it or not, Saïx would always remain, his jealousy and vindictiveness fed by Isa’s own. And now, another part of Saïx’s deeds had snaked its way back to the present. Isa wondered if he had never attempted to ingratiate himself with Xemnas, if he had remained an average underling who never found his way between his superior’s sheets, if things would have been different. 

Gazing out as the final rays of the sun disappeared into the encroaching indigo of the night sky, Isa realized that he struggled even to imagine an alternate scenario. Xemnas’s words from earlier returned to him: “All I knew was my own destiny, the fate that had been laid down with my conception.” Perhaps it had been some kind of destiny. Or, perhaps Saïx—and Isa—was merely easy to predict. 

Isa remained on the cliffside until the stars began to twinkle, the landscape illuminated by the moon’s cool rays. It was almost full that night, missing only a sliver, and as Isa gazed up at its pale face, he realized just how sorely he had missed it. Only the setting sun shone in Twilight Town, and the great moon of Kingdom Hearts had been as false as the hope it brought. A moon had shone at night in the Keyblade Graveyard, but it was cold and pallid, often obscured by clouds of dust. It had been far too long since Isa looked at the moon of his hometown, felt its pale light on his face. He closed his eyes, breathing deep the cool nighttime air. Alone with the moonlight, Isa thought of Lea, of Xemnas, and of Saïx.

Chapter Text

The sun had scarcely begun to peek over the horizon when Isa awoke, his joints stiff from the shoddy motel mattress. He couldn’t have slept more than a few hours. Sighing through his nose, he sat up and took a look at the clock on the bedside table—it was just before six. Still too early to head back to the castle. 

Why didn’t I just go home, Isa thought blearily. He wasn’t sure of the answer, himself. If anything, he felt even more tired than the night before, but he doubted he would be able to fall back asleep. Rest had an uncanny way of evading him, particularly when anxiety was dominating the majority of his thoughts. He supposed he ought to try walking it off instead.

Slowly gathering what few things he had brought with him, he left his room key with the gratingly chipper concierge—who’s that excited at six in the morning?—and stepped out into the streets of Radiant Garden. Light from the sunrise flowed over the gables of the town, the flowers turning their faces towards the warming rays. Strange, that even the simplest little plant seemed to know exactly what it had to do to survive.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Isa walked through the brisk morning air, surprised by how natural it felt. He was back home, he supposed. Practically on instinct, his feet brought him to the marketplace where, despite the early hour, there was already a number of people milling about. Isa followed his nose to a modest stall offering tea and coffee, and he took a place in line. He might as well start what may or may not be a highly stressful day with something that would wake him up.

“Coffee, please,” he said, well aware of how tired he looked. The woman behind the counter, tall and thin, offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Sure thing, hon,” she said, grabbing an empty cup from the stack. “Any sweetener?”

“Black is fine.”

Isa barely managed to stifle a yawn behind his hand as she filled his cup and slid it across the counter. "And there you are. Ten munny. Actually, you on your way to work?”

“Sort of,” mumbled Isa, passing her a few coins. 

“Well, we’ve got an extra salted caramel here, if you’d like it. On me. Maybe you can get on a coworker’s good side. Or, even better, you could have both to yourself—I won’t tell.” She gave him a wink before setting down another cup in front of him, its clear plastic lid piled high with whipped cream. 

Isa was still a little too groggy to formulate a response beyond a quick thank you, but he dropped a few extra coins in the tip jar before scooping up both drinks and heading into the plaza. More people had begun to fill the square already, the sounds of life bubbling through the town—laughter, shouts, unabashed haggling. Isa took a seat on a barrel off in a relatively quiet corner to sip his black coffee, watching the crowds go by and keeping an eye on the clock hanging from a nearby building. How early was too early to return to the castle? Eight? Nine? 

All too soon, he had swallowed the last of his warm, bitter brew. He looked down into his cup, staring at the remaining dregs for a moment before stacking the extra drink into it. Salted caramel, the vendor had said. Salty and sweet. You could have both to yourself—I won’t tell. Isa gingerly took a sip, the taste of espresso mellowed by cream and caramel and sea salt. It was quite sugary, definitely something Lea would have liked. The hint of salt, though, was enough to remind Isa of their favorite ice cream. Isa rarely admitted to his own sweet tooth these days, but on occasion, he would indulge, remembering the days of pinching pastries from unsuspecting food carts while Lea caused a distraction. He smiled to himself, savoring his second beverage a bit more than his utilitarian first. They had once wreaked havoc in this very marketplace. For a moment, he even thought he saw Lea’s flaming hair amidst the throng of people.

He squinted, looking closer at the crowd.

He had seen it. He knew those spikes.

Choking on the last of his drink, Isa shot upright, craning his neck to follow that shock of red as it flew up the steps leading to the castle. Isa’s stomach dropped, and he threw the empty cups away as he ran in pursuit. What is he doing here?

Hurrying through the crowd, Isa at last made it to the stairs, scaling them two at a time. Lea’s hair had already disappeared beyond the top. His heart racing, Isa made it to the castle entrance himself to find an agitated-looking Dilan and no Aeleus—nor Lea.

“You? What’s going on?” Dilan barked, his brows furrowed. 

Isa fought to catch his breath. “Your guess is as good as mine. Better, even. What happened?”

“That bloody redhead of yours just showed up, asking where you were. When we told him we didn’t know, he rushed inside. Aeleus went with him, but I’ve got to stay out here and guard the castle.” Dilan seemed peeved, to put it lightly.

Isa exhaled sharply through his teeth. “Has anything else happened?”

“With Xemnas? Not to my knowledge, but that might be changing quickly. You’d best go see what all the fuss is about. I expect they headed to the lab.”

Isa nodded before hurrying inside, tracing the familiar path to the laboratory as quickly as possible without breaking into a full sprint. Raised voices met his ears as he approached.

“What were you thinking, pulling him into this? Why didn’t you talk to me first?” Lea’s voice, loud and angry.

“I didn’t realize you were his babysitter. Forgive me for thinking he could make decisions on his own.” Even, sounding shrill and frustrated.

“I’m not his babysitter! I know he can! It’s just—you didn’t think about him before all this? Before getting him involved? How he might feel, seeing the guy that put that scar on his face again? What were you thinking?"

Isa heard Even scoff. “On the contrary. I did think of him, which is precisely why I spoke to him in the first place. Forgive my forwardness, but he didn’t seem particularly upset upon seeing Xemnas. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Isa’s blood ran cold at Even’s frosty remark, and he stalled outside the door.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lea spat. “He hasn’t been himself for weeks. You guys and your little—experiment—are busting open wounds that have barely started to heal. He didn’t come home last night, Even. He didn’t answer any of my calls this morning. Now you’re telling me he’s not here? Then where is he?” 

Lea had called? Isa grabbed his phone out of his pocket, realizing with a surge of guilt that it was dead. He hadn’t charged it yesterday. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sliding open the door of the laboratory, he stepped inside, his heart pounding like a drum as he fought to keep his expression placid. “Lea? What are you doing here?”

“Isa!” Lea’s green eyes widened. He rushed over, gripping Isa’s shoulders and looking him up and down. “Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I’m sorry—my phone wasn't on this morning. I forgot to charge it. I just noticed a moment ago.” Isa cast his gaze aside, the thorn of guilt from last night writhing with a vengeance in his gut. 

“And you didn’t check it once before then?” Lea said, somewhere between relieved and incredulous.

“Unlike some, I’m not glued to it." The jibe was half-hearted. He only consistently checked it when Lea was away. He hadn’t really thought of it ever being the other way around. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I stayed in town. I’m fine.”

Lea looked perplexed—as did Even, who spoke up. He and Aeleus were the only others in the room, both with pronounced scowls plastered across their faces. “You stayed in town? Whatever for? We have plenty of rooms here.”

Lea’s brow was knit with concern. “What’s going on, Isa?”

Against his better judgment, Isa had begun to bristle. The sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters weren’t helping. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in with everyone here about my every move.”

“Isa—” Lea began, but Isa cut him off.

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to come here. I just needed some time alone to think. Is that so wrong of me?”

“No, but I—I didn’t know what was happening." Lea's voice was thin, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know where you were, and I—”

“Can you two please extricate yourselves and your personal matters from my laboratory? I have an exceptionally busy day ahead of me, and I do not have the time to deal with such petty misunderstandings,” Even interrupted, disapproval clear on his stern face. 

“Apologies, Even. I’ll come back later,” Isa said. Lea looked at him quizzically, but Isa just grabbed him by the elbow, tugging him back out into one of the unoccupied side halls before Even could figure out how to freeze his bloodstream.

“You’re not usually even awake by now,” Isa hissed. “I didn’t think you were going to call this early, or I would have been more dedicated to the damn phone.”

“I couldn’t sleep." Lea wriggled his elbow out from Isa’s grip, and there was a tight frown on his forehead. “And you are usually awake right now. That’s why I called. Then you didn't ever answer, so I called Ienzo and he didn't know either, and I—”

“You couldn’t wait, so you came here to yell at Even?”

“For the love of—Isa, Xemnas woke up and I had no idea where you were. I overreacted, I know, I’m sorry, but I just—I was scared. I couldn’t lose you again.” Lea looked at him intently, and there was still worry in his gaze. Isa immediately felt a pang of guilt deep in his heart.

Isa's voice softened. “I wouldn’t just abandon you like that, Lea. You know that.”

“That’s not what I was worried about.” Lea’s eyes shone in the low light. “I was afraid Xemnas—I don’t know. Hurt you.”

Isa was taken aback. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. In fact, it seemed absurd. “What?”

“I mean, you stabbed him in the back, right? I don’t think it’s too far a stretch of imagination for him to lash out over that.”

In fact, knowing what Isa knew about Xemnas, that was a far stretch of imagination. But Lea, of course, didn’t know as much. 

“He wouldn’t do that,” Isa said quietly. “Not now, not as he is.” 

Lea looked at him in perplexment. “Isa?”

“He’s not the man you remember. Believe me.” I knew him best, after all.

Lea folded his arms tightly across his chest, breathing a short sigh through his nose. He was quiet for a moment, and the pit of Isa’s belly felt tight and dark. It seemed like an eternity before Lea spoke again. “I believe you think so, but… I still don’t get it. What did he do to deserve all this from you?”

Isa’s mouth felt dry. There were a few possible answers, some more frightening than others. “It’s... complicated,” he said quietly, looking away and focusing on one of the floor tiles. “You remember X?”

“Of course I do.”

“Of course.” Isa took a deep breath. “We couldn’t save her. We have no idea where she is now. We don’t know if she ever had a chance to live.”

Lea’s frown deepened. “What does she have to do with Xemnas?”

“I couldn’t help her. But with Xemnas… maybe I can try again. Maybe I can help make up for the past.”

“You don’t owe him that. He's the last person you owe that to.” Lea's temper was clearly threatening to flare.

“No, I don’t,” Isa replied softly. “But maybe giving him a second chance will help me feel like I deserve mine.”

Immediately, Lea’s expression softened, and he took Isa’s hand in his. “Isa… you’re a good man. Better than you think. Definitely better than him. Just… keep your own furnace lit before you try to light any other ones, okay? Especially his.”

The fierce thorn of guilt was almost painful in Isa’s chest. There was more to it than that, and he knew it. But he couldn’t articulate it. Not yet. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he mumbled, folding his arms. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Really.”

“Well, at least you’re not the one who made a total ass of himself in front of a guy your past self imploded.” Lea gave Isa a cheeky grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He paused for a moment, fidgeting with his hair. “Listen, are you okay? Seeing him again—you feel all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” Isa said, perhaps more snippily than he intended. “I can handle myself, you know. I wouldn’t be involved if I didn’t want to be. Even knows that, too.”

“I know, I know.” Lea sighed, ruffling the back of his head. “Just checking. You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

Isa huffed under his breath. “You’d hound it out of me either way.”

“Guess so,” Lea said, though his smile lacked his usual confidence. “You can talk to me, okay? Whatever’s on your mind, you can always tell me.” 

“I know. Thank you, Lea.”

“Okay, can I have one more question? I was going to ask you on the phone, or when you got home, but—”

“What was he like when he woke up?” Isa finished the question, and Lea laughed sheepishly.

“Bingo. I’ve been thinking about it all night." Lea put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "That bastard’s finally got a real, complete heart. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Well, I can, but it’s weird.”

Isa snorted softly. “I wasn’t around him for long. He—he wasn’t angry. I thought he might have been, but he wasn’t. He just seemed… sad. And lonely.” The memory of those deep amber eyes made something twang in Isa’s chest.

That small frown returned to Lea's brow. “Huh,” he said. “It’s hard to picture.”

“Getting a heart back was a rough process for all of us. All we can hope is that he comes out the other end all right.” Isa fidgeted with a loose thread on his sleeve, avoiding Lea’s gaze. “He wasn’t like the old Xehanort we knew, if that’s what you’re wondering. They’re different people.”

“I sure hope so,” muttered Lea. Clearly, he still wasn’t convinced.

“Now who’s thinking too hard?” Isa said, smiling slightly and tapping the side of his head with a finger. “Also, I take it you’ve made yourself late for something with all this?”

“I’ve got a mission with Kairi that's supposed to take a little while, but it can wait, if you want.” Lea’s gaze was painfully earnest—his heart was always on his sleeve. Isa had never understood how he did it.

“Go,” Isa said, forcing a wider smile of his own. “I’m fine here. I’m busy, and I like it that way.”

Lea shifted his weight awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Are you… gonna see him again today?”

“If all goes according to plan, yes." Isa kept his expression flat. "The researchers consider him untrustworthy, but they expect that he’ll be more honest with me.” This wasn’t entirely true, as far as he knew, but he supposed it was answer enough. 

“Got it. Just… be careful. And charge your phone. And talk to me when you get home.”

Isa's lip curled. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Somebody’s gotta boss you around.” Lea smirked back, though it looked somewhat strained. “I’ll see you soon?”

“See you soon. Good luck on your mission.”

“Yeah, yeah. First we’ll have to see if I can get out of the castle without being strangled by Even. Or Aeleus. Or Dilan. Actually, there are a lot of people in this castle who might want to knock me out on sight.”

Isa snorted. “Then watch your back.”

“Will do.” Lea grabbed Isa’s hand then, planting a kiss on the fingertips. “Remember, you can always talk to me. Got it memorized?”

“Loud and clear.” Isa’s hand felt warm where Lea had held it, and he offered as wide a smile as he could muster. Strange, how the pit behind his navel made it so difficult. “Now hurry, or Kairi’s going to make a fool out of you.”  

Once Lea had left, turning back down the hall with a wave, Isa found himself standing alone in the fluorescence of the hall. His own thoughts roiled in his heart, and he watched as Lea’s silhouette rounded the corner and disappeared.

Chapter Text

Even’s scowl had yet to abate by the time Isa returned to the lab. Aeleus must have returned to guard duty, because Even was now alone. “Just you this time? How merciful.”

Isa frowned, closing the door behind him. “It was my fault for worrying him. I apologize.”

Even looked unconvinced. "Whatever you say. Your personal dealings aren't any of my business—until they are. You've returned to see dear old Xemnas, yes?"

"I—Yes. I suppose that's one way of putting it." 

"Well, he's breathing and sleeping, and that's about it," said Even, sounding irked. "I’m afraid he isn’t yet fit to be seen.” 

Isa's frown tugged at his scar, a seed of worry planting itself in his heart. "What do you mean?" 

“Anything we've asked him has barely gotten an answer,” Even sighed, inputting a few numbers into a spreadsheet. “His new heart appears to be causing him quite a bit of distress—he may still be recovering.”

“I see,” Isa said quietly. Regaining a heart had been a brutal process for a particular few of them, himself included. It made sense that Xemnas, of all people, was going through the same thing. “When should I return?”

“Just as before, I couldn’t tell you." Even's irritation from Lea’s interruption apparently hadn’t worn off. “A few more days, perhaps.”

Isa’s own frustration also still bubbled just beneath the surface. “I’ll be in touch, then,” he said shortly. “Tell me if anything changes.” He turned on his heel to leave, but stalled for a moment at the doorway, fighting his pride. You idiot.  

Radiant Garden, he had realized the night before, was still home. One he’d abandoned, too ashamed to look at the destruction he had, in part, wrought upon it. The only thing keeping Isa away from Radiant Garden was fear and guilt—but if he was ever going to move forward, he would need to face it eventually. He may as well now. Besides, Lea would be away on a mission with Kairi for some time anyway.

And Twilight Town didn’t have a moon.

He slowly turned back towards Even, his hand resting on the door frame. “Could I stay and help with anything in the castle?” 

Even raised a brow, smiling smugly. “Finally coming around? Yes, of course. Let’s get you situated.”

The next few days were spent sorting through books, examining files, and clearing chunks of stone and sections of busted pipe out of the castle. The anxiety he felt within the castle walls was still present, but had gradually begun to dissipate as he distracted himself with work. Each day, Isa waited for news, either from Lea about his mission or from the researchers about Xemnas. He received next to none. Lea had sent him nothing but “good morning, doing ok?” and “goodnight, u good?” since he’d left, and anytime Isa talked to Ienzo or Even, it was always “We’re still waiting on some results.” Isa’s file sorting had become increasingly passive aggressive, and each passing hour made him more restless. The moon, at least, had been bright each night he spent there, and he relished in its company from the windowsill of his borrowed room.

Finally, on the morning of the third day, Aeleus hailed him in the hallway as he was returning from the library.

“Isa,” he said with a wave. “Even’s been looking for you.”

Isa’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh? Has something happened?”

“Yes and no,” shrugged Aeleus. “Follow me.” He led Isa back to the lab, where Even was typing furiously into the computer. He raised his head at their arrival.

“Well, my boy, your time has come at last,” said Even, clasping his hands together. “Xemnas’s recovery is progressing well enough. We were able to carry out a line of questioning last night, but we are having trouble assessing his veracity.”

A small frown furrowed at Isa’s forehead. “Assessing his veracity?”

Aeleus sighed. “He rambles, and you always had more patience for analyzing what he says than any of us.”

Isa raised his brows incredulously. “What?”

“We apprentices knew Xehanort as he was back then, but Xemnas withdrew from us almost immediately once he formed the Organization,” Even said plainly. “In the end, you spoke to Xemnas personally far more than any of us. Maybe you can get through to him, and figure out whether or not he’s telling us the truth.” 

“I—fine.” Isa flushed, but supposed they weren’t incorrect. Besides Xigbar, Saïx had been Xemnas’s closest confidante. Isa still didn’t fully understand why. It wasn’t for Marluxia’s lack of trying. Or Vexen's, for that matter. 

“Excellent. Follow me, then. Would you mind joining us, Aeleus?" stated Even. Aeleus straightened and stalked briskly out of the lab alongside him, and Isa trailed close behind. 

Their footsteps rang in Isa's ears as they descended the massive spiral staircase to the basement. Dim violet light shone from the eerily-pulsating tubes running through the ground and walls, and their footfalls echoed softly as they descended deeper. When at last they reached the bottom, Even swiped a keycard in front of a panel Isa didn't recognize, and the doorway to the holding cells slid open. It was smaller than Isa remembered (of course—he was no longer a child), and the sight of the dark checkered tile and harsh red lights in the hallway beyond sent a chill down his spine. He hadn't forgotten what happened here.

"Almost there," said Aeleus absently. If he was uncomfortable, too, he didn't show it. Isa wasn't sure what he would have preferred. He followed the pair a few rows down, holding his breath as they passed one cell in particular. It had been so long ago since he and Lea had befriended that girl, so long since she vanished. Isa pointedly avoided looking at the door—it was still seared in his mind, though the sound of her voice had long since faded. He felt slightly ill, being here again. 

"And here we are," said Even, drawing himself up in front of one of the imposing cell doors near the end of the hallway. It looked exactly like all the rest, with its barred diamond window and the chains snaking across its lower half. No sound came from within. "If you manage to glean anything of even remote pertinence from him, consider this visit a marked success."

Isa pursed his lips. "Understood." He felt cold, the stale air biting on his cheeks. Had it always been so freezing down here?

Even looked at him thoughtfully, slight creases of worry appearing at the corners of his mouth. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am. Don't tell me Lea got you to start fretting, now, too."

Aeleus spoke up, then. "You're remarkably pale, Isa. You're certain you're feeling well?"

The tight feeling in Isa’s chest and the sick feeling in his stomach said otherwise, but Isa merely huffed through his teeth. "I'm fine." He wasn't going to admit that his insides felt like ice.

Even frowned, but nonetheless began inputting a series of numbers on the keypad to the right of the door. "If you insist," he said slowly. "Aeleus will remain nearby should anything arise. I had your handprint registered to the interior door handle, so you may leave whenever you wish. The door will lock shut behind you, but the evidence at hand suggests he has no interest in escape."

"Is that so," murmured Isa. He was only half listening. His attention was focused on the dark-barred window of the door.

"And—here we are." Even finished with the keypad, the door opening with a soft whoosh. "Good luck." 

Isa's throat felt constricted as he stepped foot into the small, stark white room, unsettlingly similar to the ones in the Castle That Never Was. The walls were bare, with only a thin cot and a small table and chair for furnishing, a fluorescent strip of light harshly illuminating the cell. And there, sitting perfectly still at the table, was Xemnas. He was hunched over a book, his back to the door and his hair hanging in an unkempt mane around his shoulders. It was deeply strange to see him clothed in white instead of black. 

Isa faltered for a moment. The sight overwhelmed him more than he thought, and he fought to move his feet. He made it into the cell, however, leaving Even and Aeleus behind as the door quickly slid back shut. Xemnas hadn't bothered to turn at the sound. "Back so soon?" came his deep voice. He sounded profoundly tired. 

"Hello, Xemnas." Isa scarcely managed to keep his own voice steady. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest.

Xemnas's head snapped around at that, his eyes widening in what looked like surprise. They were, to Isa's astonishment, rimmed in red, and his face looked even more tired than he had sounded. Isa had never seen him looking so… haggard. "You?"

"Disappointed?" Isa forced a smile at the bad joke. 

Xemnas shook his head as he turned in his chair, his wild hair shifting over his shoulders. "No. Never." He sounded so strangely... earnest.  

Isa jutted his chin towards the meager cot that must have served as a bed. It was the only other seating available. "May I?" 

"Of course."

Isa took a seat, collecting his thoughts. What was he supposed to ask? What was he supposed to say? "You don't look well. Even mentioned that your heart was… giving you difficulties." 

Xemnas emitted a low, hoarse laugh. "Ever the academic. But yes, I will freely admit that I have not… adjusted well."

Isa's own heart sent blood rushing in his ears. "I believe I understand." He paused for a moment before deciding to take a leaf out of Lea's book. "Would you like to talk about it?" 

Xemnas's hands, usually so steady and firm, looked like they were trembling slightly. "These white walls,” he began, turning his head slightly to survey the room. “They are so like the ones we had at home.”

Isa folded his legs. Home. Was that how Xemnas saw the World That Never Was? How else could Xemnas have seen it? “They are remarkably similar in their construction.” Of course they were. They were built by the same hands.

Xemnas turned his tired gaze back to Isa. There were dark circles beneath his eyes already—in less than a week, it looked like he had gone a month without sleep. Isa supposed some physiological effects were to be expected, but it didn’t make it any less strange to see Xemnas looking so wrung-out. “I look at them, and I remember our old halls, our old days. Moments I never realized I would miss. Feelings I once cast aside so easily.”

“Is that so?” said Isa softly. An odd feeling had begun to well in his stomach.

“You remember what I told all of you,” Xemnas continued, his voice slow and thoughtful. “That memory was all we had as Nobodies. That it alone defined us.”

“Yes. I remember.” It ruined me. 

"Of course, you know now that it was a lie. You—all of you—your hearts began to burgeon early on, far sooner than I ever realized. And yet a kernel of truth remains." Xemnas looked down at his open palms. "Without my memory, I have nothing at all. Everything else, I have long since justly lost, if it was ever even mine to begin with.” He closed his hands into loose fists, resting them on his knees. “Memory is all that remains for me. All I possess, and all I have to offer.”

Isa had spent enough years disentangling meaning from Xemnas’s obfuscating words to know what was happening. “You’re lonely,” he said flatly. “And guilty.” Isa himself knew those feelings well.

When Xemnas returned his gaze to Isa, his expression was one of almost unbearable melancholy. Those rust-colored eyes had always been so expressive, but so enigmatic, too—it had been nearly impossible to discern what lay behind them. But now, it seemed that every new feeling coursing through Xemnas’s heart shone through his eyes like an open book. Isa couldn't help but find it strange.

"Dilan, Even, Aeleus, Ienzo—they all look at me with such fear and loathing. I do not blame them. Their injury at my hands was far too great. But you—why do you, of all people, look at me with pity?”

There was a pause. Isa looked at him, taking in the drawn lines of his face, the deep creases at the inner corners of those pitiful orange eyes. He took a quiet breath, drawing his gaze off to the ground. “I don’t know,” Isa answered honestly. “You lied to me. You manipulated me. You used me. I shouldn’t be here.” His nails dug harshly into the flesh of his palms. “But I am. I can’t not be here."

"I don't understand." Xemnas's voice was flat and quiet.

Isa peered back up at Xemnas. Though Isa never thought he would use such a word in conjunction with him, he seemed so... small. "Xehanort used you," Isa began slowly. "You used me. I used others. I tried just as hard to use you back—I just wasn’t good enough at it. And I know what it’s like to be guilty and alone, to look at the people who do and should hate you—and to be forgiven by people who had no reason to forgive.” He took a deep breath, Xemnas’s doleful gaze burning on his cheeks. “So I’m here. Because I understand.” 

And I missed you. In spite of it all.

Admitting as much to himself felt like a punch to the gut, but it was true. He missed Xemnas’s rambling, his deep voice, his attention. There had been a forbidden comfort to it all, a balm amidst the wrongness, a familiarity that could only be shared by two whose hands were stained similar shades of red. Those hands had shared wordless caresses with one another, ones that always should have been meaningless and empty and cold, but somewhere along the line they had begun to matter. To feel good, despite all the bad.

No, Isa shouldn’t have missed him. But he did anyway. He had always been selfish.

Xemnas was silent for a moment, staring at the same spot on the floor. He didn’t move when he spoke. “I cannot say that I understand, still. But I am grateful all the same. You are… special to me.”

Why, Isa almost asked, but the question caught in his throat. He felt his cheeks flush, and he cast his gaze aside. “I—”

“I am sorry. For everything. It will never be enough, but I am.”

Something ached deep inside Isa's being. He had no answer to give. He didn’t know what he could say. “The heart is an interesting thing, isn’t it,” he managed at last, only after a deep breath.

Xemnas merely chuckled in response. “Indeed, it is. Perhaps I may one day come to understand my own, rather than picking apart those of others.”

“And how is that going so far?” Isa's tone was dry, but he managed a hint of a smile.

“Poorly. But don’t worry—I have never lost the researcher’s spirit. I wonder only if I could ever put it to good use again.” Xemnas’s voice was thoughtful, and he glanced at the thin stack of books atop the table. Even or Ienzo must have brought them. 

“I believe you will,” said Isa. “The Restoration Committee is still in dire need of members.”

“I doubt they would seek aid from one who necessitated their formation.”

“You’d be surprised. They’ve been trying to get me to join, too. Who better to solve problems than the ones who created them in the first place?” Isa's words were slightly bitter. It was still a sore spot for him, too. “I think that’s part of why the other apprentices wanted to get you a body again. So you could aid the restoration effort.” 

“So they could probe me for information,” Xemnas said matter-of-factly. “Which, unfortunately, I have little to offer. They already have access to all of my old self’s files and reports, it seems. I’m afraid I have proven a substantial disappointment to them.”

Isa snorted. “It’s barely been a few days. You have time. We all do.” The thought was oddly comforting, he realized. Suddenly, the forward march of time didn’t seem so aimless anymore. He could find a purpose again.

“Your optimism,” Xemnas said softly. “It’s new. You shine with light. It is remarkable to see.”

Isa was quiet for a moment at the remark, and he cast his gaze aside. “I don’t care about light or darkness anymore. So much has been lost or wasted in the last ten years worrying about one or the other. All I want to see is life.”

Xemnas laughed, a deep, warm sound that filled the tiny cell. “A noble wish. One I hope to see come true for you.”

“For all of us.” Isa stood, brushing invisible dust off his pants. Xemnas followed suit, the cheap material of his white medical clothes rustling softly.

“Do you plan to return?” Xemnas asked quietly, resting a hand on the table beside him. He seemed almost apprehensive. “I know your memories of this place are… not fond.”

Isa paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the man before him. It was, like so many things had been, strange, hearing his voice tinged with worry. “I’ll be back,” Isa said. Before he could think, he grabbed one of Xemnas’s hands between his own. It was something Lea often did. “I promise.”

Xemnas’s hand stiffened for a moment before he squeezed back slightly, his touch unexpectedly warm for how cold the cell was. His gaze was intense, yet oddly gentle, and he seemed to take a moment before stringing a few more words together. “Until I see you next.”

Isa nodded, his pulse thrumming in his throat as he let go of Xemnas’s hand, reaching for the touch panel on the door handle as he looked away. “See you soon,” he said after a brief pause. With that, he left, feeling Xemnas’s eyes on his back as the door slid shut behind him. He was surprised to find that his knees felt a little wobbly.

“How’d it go?” Aeleus’s voice came to him from down the hall, near the exit. 

“I’m not certain what you wanted to hear specifically,” Isa said slowly, “but he spoke quite freely with me. I can tell you certainly that he doesn’t seem like a danger.”

Aeleus drew his mouth into a line. “Did he say anything about any hidden files?”

“Is that what you’ve been looking for? Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like it. He said you all have access to everything already.” 

The line of Aeleus’s mouth turned into a frown. “And you’re certain he’s telling the truth?”

“I am.”

Aeleus, thankfully, nodded his understanding. “I see.”

“He won’t be of any use to you locked up down here,” said Isa, folding his arms and looking back at Xemnas’s door. He wondered if they had ever gotten to the soundproofing Braig had threatened so long ago. “You would be better off putting his brain to use. He could help with restoration projects.”

“I don’t disagree,” Aeleus said slowly. “But I’m not the one making the decisions. You’d be better off telling Even or Master Ansem. I suppose you’re planning to already?”

Isa nodded. “I’ll tell them what I know and what I think.”

Aeleus chuckled softly. “You always were tenacious. Let’s go.”

Back in the lab, Even was looking over a few figures with Ansem, speaking softly as they discussed parapets and turrets. Aeleus knocked softly as he and Isa entered, and Even raised his head. “Ah, Isa. How was he?”

“I am eager to hear of his condition, as well,” Ansem added. “Was he awake yet?”

“He was,” Isa replied, surprised to hear a touch of pity in Ansem’s voice. “But he looked exhausted.”

“He has been sleeping on and off since he awoke,” said Even. “Presumably his heart and body are still recovering. However, it appears that he has been suffering from nightmares. I expect he isn’t used to them.”

It was true—in all the times Saïx had seen Xemnas asleep, not once had he ever appeared to dream. “I see. Will they pass?”

“Have yours?” Even’s reply wasn’t meant to be cruel—it was simply matter-of-fact. Terrible nightmares were apparently commonplace among the Organization’s ex-members. 

“Well, he was awake, and he talked. He said you already have access to all the files and reports Xehanort wrote while he was an apprentice here, as well as those he left behind from the old Organization.”

“And he gave you good reason to believe this?” Ansem said slowly. He sounded more cautious than accusatory, a change Isa didn’t mind.

Isa squared his jaw. “He feels guilty, and he feels lonely. He has no reason to lie anymore.” 

“I didn’t hear everything,” said Aeleus with a respectful nod to Isa, “but from what I did hear of their conversation, I must also agree.”

“It is too soon to decide anything for certain,” murmured Even, stroking his chin, “but what course of action might you suggest for him?”

Isa’s heartbeat quickened. “If he has no old information to uncover, he could help you pursue the new. He was—still is—a brilliant researcher. He could support the Restoration Committee.”

Ansem seemed to consider it, folding his hands behind his back. “Would this even be something he would lend himself to?”

“You could at least offer him the option. I think it would seem preferable to rotting away in a cell.”

“We cannot release him immediately. The risk is too high. But,” Ansem replied, looking over at Even, “I will not deny the possibility of his aid. For all of his folly, Xehanort as I knew him possessed the most brilliant mind I have yet seen. If Xemnas has retained even a fraction of it, his input would be useful.”

“I’ll remain in Radiant Garden for a few more days,” Isa added. “Just in case.”

“And what of Lea?” Even questioned. 

“He’s away on a mission. He can contact me if he needs anything.”

Even raised a brow, but didn’t add any further questions. “We are always glad to have your help here,” he said simply.

Isa looked down into the Heartless manufactory. Somewhere below there, Xemnas sat with his books, only a few yards away from where their other friend had once been held. “I should have offered it sooner."

Chapter Text

The days and nights since he had awoken were indistinguishable. He slept through the majority of each, though he never awoke feeling rested. Instead, he dreamed, couldn’t stop dreaming—visions of shattered stained glass beneath his feet, oily black water filling his mouth and lungs, icy fingers constricting around his throat. There were faces, figures, sometimes, though he could never remember anything they said or did. They were always just out of reach, ignoring him when he called out, disappearing into a haze of inky darkness before he could catch up. He would wake drenched in sweat, his skull pounding and the pressure in his chest all but unbearable. The cold, stale air caught in his throat, and he fought to breathe through the miasma of tension brought by his dreams.

Xemnas always woke alone. 

His few waking hours were spent between reading and being questioned by the apprentices. They came and went, and their distaste was palpable. Dilan, still embittered. Even, irritable and reproachful. Aeleus, wary and distrustful. Ienzo, afraid. They all seemed in a hurry to leave any time they visited; they would run a quick test, perhaps, or cross-check Xemnas’s memory with reports they had on file, and then they would be on their way, casting hasty glances over their shoulders as they departed. Had their eyes always been so sharp, so expressive? Had he ever noticed? 

They came, and they would speak, and they would leave. He would sleep, he would dream, and he would wake. Thus the days went by, as much as he could sense their passage. All he could do was wait for the door to slide open, offering at least a moment’s reprieve from the oppressive loneliness of his cell. Though it was an ironic thought, one that sat heavy and awkward in his chest, he had realized that the standoffish company was better than none at all. 

He had begun to play a game with himself, trying to guess who would come next. Would it be Even with his clipboard and pens, or Ienzo and his laptop? Perhaps it would be Dilan, carrying a tray of bland, healthy food and a stone-faced scowl, or Aeleus, who had once smuggled him a bar of chocolate. 

Or perhaps it would be Isa. 

Despite what he had said at his last visit, Isa had yet to return. Every time footsteps approached down the hall, every time the door opened, Xemnas hoped to see that shock of blue, to hear his own name uttered by that quiet voice. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask. So much only Saïx—only Isa—knew. And so much he didn’t. 

The memory of Saïx burned in Xemnas's chest. Xemnas had denied his own heart until the very end, had been the perfect specimen of an empty, unfeeling Nobody for years on end—until he wasn't. Until he found himself watching the clock in his office, waiting to hear the soft click of the door when Saïx came to deliver his reports. Until he looked down at Saïx's sleeping face, tucked against his chest early in the mornings before the rest of the castle awoke. Until he watched Saïx's blatant plotting from afar and found he did not care, for reasons beyond the absence of a heart. 

It had been so easy to ignore, to move through each day like he was merely following the steps of a dance he had been taught. Not until the end, when his body was broken and fading, did he let himself feel his heart ache. Not until his consciousness swam in darkness did he realize he had tethered his heart to others, that there were memories he held dear. It should have been far too late—he should have been able to forget and fade. But now, here he was, returned to the land of the living by some bizarre resurrection he did not fully understand. To wake, to see Saïx's—Isa's—face, to hear his voice before any others—it was almost more than Xemnas could bear. The feelings surging through his heart felt powerful enough to rip out of his chest. 

Perhaps the next time he came, if Isa could stay long enough—perhaps then Xemnas could speak with him plainly, could lay bare what had hidden dormant in his heart for so long. Last time, the words had choked in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to speak his heart's passions aloud. But perhaps he could try again. 

Perhaps, if Isa returned to see him.

On the fourth day since Isa's visit—or was it the fifth? Xemnas wasn't sure—Even arrived once again, laden with equipment and his usual clipboard. "Now that your heart has, for the most part, stabilized," he said, setting up part of the apparatus on the small table, "we want to extract some data from it for comparison." 

"Comparison?"

"Yes. To Roxas and Xion's. Roxas was born of both Sora and Ventus's hearts, and Xion from mere memories. You yourself were born of both Terra and Xehanort. We wish to see if there are any similarities in the formation of your hearts, as the three of you all formed personhoods distinct from your progenitors."

Xemnas hummed, eyeing the equipment. Parts of it looked familiar—it must have been repurposed from the old days. "An interesting study," he mused from his seat. "I am curious about that, as well." 

Even frowned down his nose. "Don't get too ahead of yourself. You can no longer boss me around for test results." 

Xemnas laughed hollowly. "Of course. You cannot rush good science."

"You, telling me that?" Even scoffed under his breath as he finished setting up the equipment, straightening himself. "Stay still. I'm going to begin the encoding process."

Xemnas nodded as a beam of blue light met his chest. It was light and painless, tingling with slight warmth as the machine did its work. 

"It will take a bit of time to complete," said Even, tapping the machine with one finger. "So I suppose we're stuck with one another for conversation in the meantime."

Xemnas frowned. “I suppose so. Perhaps you may have found a question I can at last offer an adequate answer to.”

A thoughtful look passed across Even's face, and he folded his arms, looking at Xemnas inquisitively. “You’ve been quite reticent yourself when it comes to asking questions. You aren’t curious about the development of our projects? The state of the worlds?”

Xemnas blinked. “I did not expect to be offered an answer, should I venture the inquiry. I am a prisoner, after all.”

“I never took you for one to be so easily dissuaded from curiosity.”

Xemnas sighed. It was true—he still hungered for knowledge, as much as he could glean from his small cell. He had simply assumed any queries of his own would not be well-met. “I… would be interested in any news you have to share.”

Even smiled smugly. “As I thought.” 

While strings of data began to consolidate in the strange machine, Xemnas listened as Even recounted the worlds’ current state of affairs. It had been a few months since Xehanort’s Keyblade War—the Restoration Committee had begun a concentrated effort to restore Radiant Garden. Xigbar, Luxord, Marluxia, and Larxene were still missing. Demyx, to everyone but Ienzo’s disappointment, had decided to hang around the castle from time to time. Lea, evidently, had become a full-fledged Keyblade wielder, traveling on missions for the wizard and the king. Xemnas did little to hide his clear distaste at Lea’s mention, but fortunately enough, Even seemed to wordlessly agree. Unfortunately for Xemnas, Even, like Vexen, had the habit of leaving every point that interested Xemnas until the very last.

Once the waiting had become unbearable, Xemnas finally snapped and asked. “And what of Isa?” 

“What of him?” Even snipped, a frown appearing at the corners of his mouth. 

“How… is he?” The simple question almost caught in Xemnas’s throat. It was strange, the way his belly felt so jittery.

Even huffed, though he didn’t seem surprised. “Well, he’s fine, I suppose. You’ve seen him for yourself. He now lives with Lea in Twilight Town, in what I’m sure is a pleasant enough little flat for a happy couple.” Even paused, his brow quirking upwards at the look on Xemnas’s face. “Though I suppose that’s not the answer you wanted to hear, is it?”

Xemnas was silent, blinking again slowly. It wasn’t a surprise. Of course it wasn’t. Saïx—Isa—had always been thinking of Lea, right until the very end. It was foolish to think anything otherwise. It made perfect sense that they had rekindled their childhood bond in the months since Isa’s recompletion.

...So why did the confirmation send a wave of grief cascading through Xemnas's heart?

“I see.”

Even raised an eyebrow at him, but continued speaking. “Anyway, our current project is the teardown of that blemish beyond the outskirts, Villain’s Vale...”

Even's voice met his ears, but Xemnas’s focus had quickly waned. Why was he here, he wondered? Why had they brought him back? What did they truly want? What did Isa want? He supposed all of this could be a fair enough revenge. This pitiful existence, kept as a specimen under lock and key, was recompense for Xemnas’s actions, his manipulation and lies. The tables had merely turned—the heartache that had been so easy to induce himself had come full circle at last. Xemnas looked down at his hands, resting on his knees, and felt sick. He remembered all too sharply what those hands had done.

A sharp huff from Even drew Xemnas’s attention back. “I offer you a glimpse at the outside world, and you don’t even listen. Typical.”

Xemnas’s brow furrowed. “Ah… my apologies. My focus at present is not what it once was.”

Even just sighed, clipping his pen to his clipboard and fiddling with a switch on the machine. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether you listen or not.” He leveled his gaze at Xemnas, and Xemnas was surprised to see it soften slightly. “My. You’re a wreck.”

Xemnas leaned back where he sat, glancing over at his untouched lunch from hours ago. His appetite had yet to settle, and he doubted that it was going to return any time soon. “How astute of you.”

“Psh. If it makes you feel any better, you’ll likely be leaving this particular cell soon, at the very least.” 

Xemnas's brow knit together. “What?”

“Isa has been hard at work trying to get you instated as a ‘probationary member’ of the Restoration Committee. He’s quite stubborn whenever he gets his heart set on something.”

Xemnas’s pulse quickened. “I know," he said, faster than he had intended. It was profound, the effect even the thought of Isa had on him. The glimmers of emotion he had felt while in the Organization had come to painful fruition—regardless of the fact that they had come far too late. And yet he couldn’t help being strangely overwhelmed by the notion that Isa was trying to help him. Isa lived with Lea now. Lea was his lover, Xemnas was certain. So why was he trying to help Xemnas, of all people? It wasn't like Xemnas had anything to offer him any longer, in terms of information or power. That was all that had brought Saïx to him in the first place—he was well aware of that fact. 

Xemnas wanted to ask if Isa planned to return any time soon, but the question died on his lips. 

“Yes, of course you do. Don’t make him regret it.” Even huffed, tucking his clipboard beneath his arm and flipping a switch on the machine that shut off the beam of light connecting it to Xemnas’s chest. “And eat your food before it spoils. I don’t want him nagging me about starving you.”

“Would he?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Even’s chilly gaze was scrutinizing, and there was a beat of silence before his next words. “You have feelings for him, don’t you? You love him." 

Xemnas’s cheeks went pale. “I—that is a powerful word,” he said with measured slowness. “One I would not use lightly.” 

You love him. The idea had been so far off, so utterly impossible for so long. Even the word had felt strange—rarely had it ever so much as left his lips. And yet, when Even said it, it knocked the wind from Xemnas’s lungs. Love. Xemnas wasn’t even certain he could articulate what it meant. All he knew was that his chest ached, more unbearably than it had since he had first awoken, and he suddenly wished that Even would leave sooner rather than later.

Even, meanwhile, pursed his lips, a knowing look in his eyes that Xemnas didn’t particularly like. Or perhaps it simply made him uneasy. Xemnas sat perfectly still as Even tucked his clipboard beneath his arm, gathering up the machine. “How odd, seeing you be an open book. Well, we are officially finished here. Do you need more reading material?”

Xemnas looked over at the meager pile sitting atop his small table. He had read everything at least twice, if not three times, already. “Yes. Please.”

“I’ll see what I can find. And,” said Even, his voice growing more stern, “don’t try any funny business with Isa. For better or worse, that fool Lea makes him happy. Don’t try to ruin things for him just to get what you want.”

It felt like someone had taken a blow to Xemnas’s gut. He gaped at Even for a moment, finding himself at a sudden loss for words. The feeling was strange. Once, he had always known exactly what to say—now, his tongue failed him all too often. “I—I wouldn’t," he insisted, and Even looked at him with a calculating coolness. Would I? Deep in Xemnas's belly, a whirlwind began to simmer—anger, bitterness, heartache, a familiar blend that left a sour taste in his mouth. He had spent so long empty that feeling like this quickly threatened to overwhelm him. 

His hands, Xemnas realized, had begun to shake where they lay on his knees. He balled them into fists to hide it, but Even seemed to notice, drawing his lips into a thin line. "Tch. You'll be fine. One of us will be back with dinner in a few hours."

Xemnas nodded around the tightness in his throat as Even left, the door sliding softly shut behind him. The monochrome white of the room began to blur in Xemnas's vision, and he sighed. Tears, once so unbelievably foreign to him, had become a more frequent companion than he ever would have liked to admit. They fell quietly, leaving small wet marks where they landed, and Xemnas screwed his eyes shut as if that would make them disappear. 

Even's remarks about Isa that day were only the catalyst that broke the dam. It was all too much. Like too many clashing colors, like too many loud sounds, too much writhed inside him, making him tired and sick as it lurked, inescapable, in every corner of his body. It was torture, being here alone, trapped with only a few books and his own thoughts. It had scarcely been a week, but it had felt like months. Though he supposed he deserved it. The ripples from his own actions had merely caught up with him, the pain he had dealt out returning in kind.

He remembered how it was to feel nothing, to walk through each day utterly unaffected, to be callous to anything and everything. He remembered how it felt to know exactly where his feet were taking him, to be in perfect control as he executed every plan expected of him. And now, he remembered the dim, unacknowledged pleasure that flickered in his chest when he surveyed their old meeting room, seeing each chair filled by his companions. And he remembered the emptiness inside him as those seats emptied, one by one.

Once, he had called the members of the Organization his friends. They listened to him, carried out his orders, gathered when he called. Of course, none of them truly wanted to. It was, of course, out of obligation. But it had offered Xemnas satisfaction and comfort, knowing that, no matter what, he had a host of companions to turn to. They were connected through him. To him. And the later years, those burgeoning feelings Xemnas had so expertly ignored—all of that was gone. Taken for granted. 

This newfound appreciation had come far too late. Now, Xemnas was alone, with only the bitter sting of tears for company.

Chapter Text

For the first time since the end of the Keyblade War, Isa could say that he was busy. The Radiant Garden crew hadn't been exaggerating their need for help—there was no end to the projects, the excavations, the paperwork. An endless stream of requests came to Isa from the Restoration Committee, and he threw himself into the work with all the focus he had once directed while in the Organization. 

It felt good, having a purpose again, though the castle halls remained cold and uninviting to him.

The castle and its surrounding areas thrummed with activity, full of moving crews and research interns. Isa moved through them quietly, withdrawn behind the high collars of his jackets or boxes of papers and broken pipes. He still bore a strange anxiety about being recognized, and thus avoided the more social corners of the castle. This was also due in no small part to the fact that he felt unbearably awkward trying to hold normal human conversation. 

He realized that it had been far easier to speak with Xemnas than it was with the regular folk of the town and castle.

As he went about his work, cleaning through boxes and piecing together fragments of old files, thoughts of Xemnas followed him. He would look down at his feet, at the ground, and think of Xemnas below in the basement labs. It's not permanent, he told himself. It's not like her. He'll get out. He'll have a chance. All the same, the memory of that cell door, of the cold, bitter air—it made Isa's stomach turn. And the way Xemnas had looked, had sounded… so forlorn and tired and small. Never in his life, not once, had Saïx known Xemnas to seem diminutive. He had always been larger than life in every way, too much for most to handle, a quiet, powerful force of unimaginable magnitude and gravity. But now, dashed from his lofty throne, rent of his ambition, saddled with the rhythm of a heart in his chest, Xemnas had already begun to change. Isa's own heart burned, a strange sensation he didn't know what to do with, as he thought of the tragedy that had lain in those orange eyes—and the way they had looked at him.

As usual, he remained abysmal at parsing through his newfound wellspring of feelings. It was so much easier to bulldoze over them, to conjure up excuses and logic to bury them like they were the old, tarp-covered furniture in the castle. One day at a time, he reminded himself. He was doing a lot of that lately.

The day after he spoke with Xemnas, he had been so busy that he had scarcely had time to think. He didn't see the apprentices at all, let alone Xemnas again. That night, he barely managed to text Lea. "Been staying in Radiant Garden to help the Restoration Committee for a few days. Everything's good. Tell me when your mission is over."

"oh wow! ok"

"How's the mission been?"

"not bad, almost done. more heartless than usual tho :/"

"Stay safe."

"you got it, boss👌 should be back tomorrow morning. you gonna be home?"

Isa looked down at the glow of his screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as he thought. "Want to meet me here? We could get ice cream and visit the fountains, like old times."

It took a while for Lea to respond, the dots that signified his typing lasting much longer than his message ended up being. "i kinda told roxas and xion we could go shopping tomorrow for school. thought you might like to join?"

A bolt of humiliation shot through Isa. Lea hadn't outright said no, but the implication was there. He didn't want to come back to Radiant Garden. 

His cheeks burned as he replied. "Oh. Sure. You don't think they'll mind?"

"it was xion's idea :) i think she just hopes you'll get her ice cream again lol"

Xion had told Lea about their encounter the other day? Isa frowned. For some reason, it felt odd to think of them talking about him at all when he was not there. He had tried his best to be as much of a non-entity as possible since he had returned—quietly taking up his place at Lea's side, nodding and forcing laughter at jokes he didn't get, staying in the background whenever he could. The thought that he might come up in conversation unsettled him. What else might they have said? 

"Haha… See you tomorrow."

After leaving a quick message to Ienzo that he was returning to Twilight Town for the day, Isa flew off early in the morning. He stepped out in front of the mansion, following the familiar path back to their apartment. Twilight Town's sunset had grown familiar, and it was beautiful, in its way. And yet Isa missed sun rises, early dusks, the dead of night. It was as though Twilight Town was frozen in time, each day just the same as the one before and the one to follow. It had never quite stopped unsettling him, as much as he tried denying as much to himself. 

He unlocked the door, stepping inside and turning on the lights. It had been a few days since either of them had been home. There would be leftovers in the fridge that had gone bad. He went to it, opening the fridge and emptying a few distended containers into the garbage before washing them in the sink. The air was quiet—it always was when Lea was away. Isa sank down onto the couch, tucking his knees to his chest as he took out his phone. "I'm home. Want me to meet you at the stores?"

A few minutes went by before Lea's reply. It was still quite early, Isa supposed. "hang on, almost home"

He wanted to talk, then. Isa sighed, settling deeper into the cushions and thumbing through one of Lea's magazines before replacing it back on the coffee table. Too much skateboarding and Struggle battling. Rubbing his temples, he leaned back on the arm of the couch with a yawn. It had been a lot of early mornings in a row. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t actually like being awake early—it just so happened that he often was, for one reason or another, and it had long since come to be something simply expected of him. Lea would be here soon. Isa figured he may as well rest his eyes in the meantime.

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself being shaken gently awake by the shoulder. “Whoa, there. Morning,” came Lea’s voice.

“Lea,” Isa mumbled, sitting upright and blinking as that fiery red mane came into view. “Sorry. Dozed off.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” said Lea. He was grinning, but Isa noticed in an instant that his smile didn’t quite reach his big green eyes. Lea plopped down onto the couch beside him, giving him an affectionate touch on the cheek. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

Isa leaned a bit into Lea’s palm, closing his eyes. “Good to see you, too.” It was good to see him—yet Isa felt that wordless wall threatening to come up again, that barrier he had been fighting so hard to whittle down. He wanted to run away, to close himself off like he always did anytime he knew he was about to incite tough conversation. He had hoped everything would become easy to talk about again, now that the Organization was in the past and he and Lea had reconciled. He had quickly realized that such wasn’t the case; there were still topics he couldn’t bring himself to broach, words that caught in his throat before they could reach his tongue. Part of him wanted to stop Lea from asking his inevitable questions, to insist that there was nothing to talk about aside from which stores they were going to. He just managed to bite his tongue, but only just.

Sure enough, the first question came. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Isa said too quickly. “Good. I’ve stayed busy.”

“In Radiant Garden, huh?” Lea whistled through his teeth. “I thought you didn’t want to go back there much.”

“It’s… complicated.” Isa folded his arms over his chest. “But I’m figuring it out. It’s been good.”

“Geez, it’s not like I’m charging you for every word you say. You can still talk to me, y’know?”

Isa sighed, leaning his head back on the back of the couch. Why was doing so so hard? “Sorry. I haven’t felt very talkative lately.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t gotta be. I can read your mind.” Lea grinned, rubbing Isa’s scalp with his fingertips.

Oh, if only. “Very funny.”

Lea smiled at him again, a warm expression that Isa was sad to see fade so quickly. “So,” said Lea, his voice growing serious. “Did you see him?”

There it is. Isa drew a deep breath, glancing over at the clock. It was barely ten. “I did. There's nothing to be concerned about thus far. When were we meeting Roxas and Xion?”

“Later. Come on, don’t change the subject. It’s kind of important.”

“I know. I… Sorry.” Isa’s face felt hot. He didn’t know why, but his mind wanted so desperately to keep Lea and Xemnas separate, to flit between two disparate spheres on his own terms and his own whims. At least until he knew for certain what was happening. “I saw him the day before yesterday. They’re keeping him in the basement cells.”

Lea’s forehead furrowed, a dark look coming into his eyes. “Down there, huh? I’m surprised they didn’t level that place to the ground a long time ago.”

"I know. But that’s where he is."

“And?” 

Isa sighed, well aware of the fact that he was trying to make Lea feel like he was pulling teeth. “And we talked. He and I.”

Lea's jaw squared. “Just the two of you? They let him be alone with you?” His voice was strained, tight around the edges, taut like the surface of a drum. Isa bit the inside of his cheek.

"Aeleus was just outside. It was fine." It would have been fine even if he hadn't been, but Lea did not know that. There was so much Lea did not know.

He didn't know just how much Saïx had chosen for himself back in the days of the Organization. He didn't know that Saïx, not Xemnas, had been the far more active party in their affair. He didn’t know that Saïx had always been the one to scale the castle first, arriving at Xemnas's door to beg and plead like the groveling little lapdog he was. He didn’t know that Xemnas always asked before leaving any marks, and he didn’t know that Saïx always said yes, because he wanted Axel to see them and worry and be jealous, unacknowledged frustration mounting any time it didn't seem to work. Lea didn’t know, and the thought made the little guilty creature in Isa's heart raise its head once again. It sank its teeth and its talons into the tender flesh, and Isa’s skin suddenly felt too tight.

"We just talked. The researchers wanted me to test how truthful he was being."

"He lied to you, too, and none of us ever knew. How were you supposed to tell?"

Isa's mouth couldn't help but twitch at the corners, as hard as he tried to tamp down the instinct. "Having a heart makes us all a more open book. He is no different. A prime example, in fact."

Lea's eyes narrowed, and his fingers began to fidget, tapping on his knee. "What does that mean?"

“It’s hard to explain.” Isa folded his hands in his lap, looking down at the coffee table. “You would understand if you saw him.”

“I don’t really want to see him.” Lea spoke with a grave finality, a seriousness that drew Isa’s gaze to his face as his eyebrows knit downward. Lea sighed, leaning his head back on the couch cushions. “I’ve been trying to understand it all, but I just don’t. I can’t think of his face and not get angry, y’know? He put us all through so much, and I—I don’t see anything in him worth bringing back. I can’t figure out what you do.”

The words stung. They shouldn’t have—Lea had every right to have such feelings, to bear such resentment. But they stung, all the same, and Isa wasn’t certain why. His chest felt pinched, and he wished he could evaporate into nothing, could vanish into one of his old corridors until he figured out what he could possibly say. He sat there, placid and still, his eyes trained on the covers of the coffee table magazines. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and flat. “I do not understand what you saw in me, either. But you saw something all the same, and I am here now, and I am the better for it.”

“You aren’t Xemnas, Isa.” Lea was looking at him—Isa could feel those concerned green eyes boring into the side of his face. “You were my friend—my best friend—before it all, not some mad scientist. It wasn’t your fault things turned out the way they did. If it weren’t for him, none of it would have happened in the first place. It’s his fault Saïx was like that at all.”

Isa pursed his lips. “He didn’t force me to do the things I did. I chose them myself. Every time.” He looked at Lea, forcing himself to meet his eyes. “I chose to grasp at power. I wanted it. I wanted the strength that came with Berserk, and I wanted my place as Xemnas’s right hand. I chose to be vicious to Roxas and Xion. I chose to run you through with my claymore. Plenty of 'Xemnas's' ideas were really mine. In fact, most of the crueler ones were.” A sigh came from deep in his core, and he paused, collecting his thoughts before he finished. “And yet you still have me, here and now. Even after everything, you held onto some memory, some idea of me that no one else saw. I don’t understand that, either.”

Isa fully expected anger, expected a resurgence of the flurry of dancing flames that he remembered so well. He braced for it, his jaw tight and his shoulders squared like he was geared up to be struck.

Instead, he was met with a look of profound sadness from Lea, and somehow that was worse. “Isa…” Lea cupped the side of Isa’s face. “You also chose to get replicas for Roxas and Xion. You chose to put yourself on the line to make sure Xion got her memories back, and you chose to try and help X, forever ago. You have a good heart, and you deserve your place here.”

“Something I will never agree with you on,” Isa replied bitterly, unable to stop himself. Before Lea could chide him, he continued. “But this isn’t about me. I know what Xemnas did. I know your thoughts. But I…” He trailed off, looking at the palms of his hands. They had grown softer, less calloused, in the absence of his weapon these last few months. It had been a long time since he summoned Lunatic. “Is it wrong of me to hope?”

Lea sighed through his teeth, his hand falling from Isa’s face to knit with Isa’s fingers. “No, it's not. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though. He doesn’t deserve you or what you’re doing, and I’ll be honest, I don’t really know what it is you’re hoping for. But,” he said slowly, “I know better than to get in your way when you want something.” He squeezed Isa’s hand, his expression far away. “Look, I can tell you’re done talking about it, but can I have one more question?”

Isa did not meet his eyes, but he nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you really want him back?”

Lea’s words were soft, tentative, perched on familiar eggshells as he waited for Isa to blow up in his face. Isa, however, did not. He could not. The guilt lay too deep. Xemnas had always borne a particular vendetta against Axel, just as strong as his preference for Saïx. Xemnas had dealt injury on every front to the man currently sitting beside him, had beaten him down in every way. And yet Isa could not stop thinking of those doleful, cinnamon-orange eyes, that strange little smile reserved just for him. 

Isa was selfish. All he ever did was envy and want—and he wanted Xemnas back. He wanted to see what kind of man he was without bearing Xehanort’s mantle, without the posturing of some grand title and hidden purpose. He wanted to see him leave the dungeons of Radiant Garden, as if that might finally ease the guilt of a lifelong failure to do so with others. And he wanted the return of the only other person in the worlds who not only knew him, but seemed to genuinely want him around.

“I want... to give him the same chance we got."

Lea tried his best to hide his downcast look of disappointment, but Isa had known him for a long time. He knew that face when he saw it, the way the inner corners of his eyes crumpled. It made Isa’s heart ache, made the pit of his stomach grow dark and uncomfortably twisted, but he could not lie wholly. He had always been terrible at it.

“I guess you knew him better than I did.” Lea’s voice, despite his best efforts to sound light, was flat and dull. Rare for him.

When Isa replied, it was quiet and equally shapeless. “I suppose it came with the position.” 

That only earned him a funny, almost cold look from Lea in response, and Isa was briefly tempted to feign the onset of a sudden illness before Lea finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “Listen,” he said at length. “Just because I’ve got no interest in seeing him, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna try and stop you if you do. I just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you getting hurt again.” 

Isa exhaled, long and slow. He had scarcely realized he had been holding his breath. “I’m fine. I’ll stay fine. I promise.” He looked at Lea, wrapping around his fingers with his own. “Trust me once more?”

A flat smile forced its way to the sides of Lea’s mouth. “Well, I trust that you’ll try, and that’s all I ask.”

Isa scoffed. “Always such a low bar with me.”

“Hey, I’m easily pleased.” Lea’s smile widened a little bit, but there was still a tightness around his eyes. The conversation was far from over, but Isa sensed that neither of them particularly wanted it to continue at the moment. Too much longer, and their mutual sulk would grow deep enough to ruin Roxas and Xion’s plans for the day. More words would simply have to wait until Isa figured out how to say them.

“Speaking of easily pleased—aren’t we keeping Roxas and Xion waiting? I’ve heard your phone go off at least three times.”

Lea stood, stretching his arms above his head and grabbing his phone, glancing at its lit-up screen. “Hah, they’re just excited. They’re glad you’re coming, you know. You left quite an impression on Xion the other day.” There—all Isa ever had to do was ask about the two kids, and Lea would immediately unwind. Isa would be lying if he said jealousy no longer bubbled up in him when he saw how relaxed they all were in each other’s company, but the animosity Saïx had once felt had long since dissipated, replaced by remorse and understanding.

“I hope I didn’t frighten her too badly.” Isa still hadn’t forgotten the look of terror on Xion’s face when she had looked up at him on the street—but he also hadn’t forgotten the gentle warmth of her smile when they parted ways. Strange, that it was so easy to look at her now with such a pronounced glimmer of fondness in his heart.

“You kidding? The way to those kids’ hearts is by buying them ice cream.” He paused, a thoughtful look passing briefly over his face. “…I guess sort of literally, the way it all worked out.” Lea’s crooked grin had relaxed somewhat, and Isa, too, felt some sense of relief. He was tired of talking about himself and Xemnas.

“I certainly hope you’ve shown them how to eat real food by now.”

“Come on, give me some credit. I’ve been trying to teach them how to cook, but you know me. I always burn it.” Their breezy words fluttered over the pit left behind by their prior conversation, and Isa hoped it would be enough to ignore it, at least for the time being. Until something finally changed.

“Well, you still cook better than I do. At least the flavors taste good at some point in the process.”

Lea laughed at that. “Yeah, you stick to oatmeal and microwave pilaf, I’ll stick to ice cream. You ready to go?”

“Let’s.”

The shopping district in Twilight Town had its charm, to be sure. The red brick shone in the citrusy sunlight, dangling shop signs grabbing and diverting attention left and right. Conversation bubbled from open doors, and the warm summer air carried the approach of autumn on its breeze. As Lea and Isa began to wander down the street, Roxas and Xion came into view, their faces plastered to one of the windows. Something inside seemed to be holding them in rapt attention, and they did not notice the brightly-colored pair approaching. Lea held a finger up to his lips at Isa when they were a few feet away, mischief glinting in his eye. Isa snorted and hung behind, tucking his hands into his pockets and his chin behind his collar as Lea crept up silently behind the two teenagers. A dual pair of yelps drifted to Isa’s ears as Lea wrapped his arms around either of their necks, nearly knocking them over as he tucked their heads to his sides. Isa rolled his eyes at the raucous laughter that ensued, though he found it difficult not to smile. It was difficult not to appreciate the care Lea clearly had for the pair in his charge—especially now that Isa knew that same care was also dedicated to him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“Axel!” laughed Roxas, wriggling out of Lea’s bony grasp. “You’re so mean!”

“Look, you scared the kittens!” protested Xion, prying Lea’s arm off herself with ease. There was a smile to her voice as she pointed into the window, and Isa craned his head to glance inward. The sun was reflecting off the glass too harshly at this angle, and he couldn’t see anything.

“They look fine to me. Unless you two are the scared little kittens?” Lea stuck out his lower lip, and Roxas jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Lea snickered, setting his hands on his hips as he looked into the window. “Oh, wow. Those are cute.”

“Aren’t they?” said Xion, her hands clasped to her chest. She looked back into the pet store for a moment, her eyes shining with delight, before she turned back to Lea. “Wait, where’s Isa? Wasn’t he coming?”

“Right here,” said Isa with a small wave, and he began walking towards the merry trio. He still preferred hanging back a bit. His sudden, unannounced presence could never be a pleasant surprise.

“Had to get him to stay put while I snuck up on you guys,” grinned Lea. “Otherwise his stomping would’ve alerted you to my master plan.”

“Very funny,” said Isa, standing a few feet off to Lea’s right. “I don’t stomp.”

“You kinda do,” snickered Roxas. He wasn’t shy about poking fun at Isa, now, and Isa found he didn’t really mind it. It was certainly more than fair.

“Well, perhaps I’ll have to look into some quieter footwear, since apparently I’m being dragged clothes shopping.” He had meant to sound droll, but he watched Xion’s face fall a bit, and he kicked himself mentally for coming across as thoughtless. “You’ll have to show me all the best stores. Though I thought you three would prefer to start with ice cream?” He smiled warmly at them—as warmly as he knew how—and folded his arms. 

“We were on our way over there,” said Roxas, “but then we walked by the pet store here and—just look, man! I’ve never seen anything like them before! They’re so small!”

Isa drew closer to the window, peering down into the small pen positioned against it. Inside was a litter of impossibly fluffy kittens, one pair clumsily play-fighting while the other three slept in a pile of soft-looking fur. He had always been more of a dog person, but even Isa, for all his chilly demeanor, couldn’t help but soften at the sight. “Ah. Very cute, indeed.”

“Isa? Calling something cute? What has the world come to?” Roxas grinned, folding his hands behind his head and swaying slightly from side to side.

“There are plenty of things I consider cute,” Isa insisted flatly as he made room for Xion to return to the window. “Like your skateboard.”

“Hey!” Roxas said indignantly.

Lea laughed, his smile finally reaching his bright green eyes for the first time Isa had seen that day. “Don’t worry, Rox, we’ll get revenge on him by making him go to the skate shop with us.”

Xion chimed in, her attention still focused on the tumbling pair of kittens. “Aw, that means I’m getting dragged, too? I don’t really like skateboarding.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll have to make it my duty to rescue you instead while they incessantly debate the pros and cons of different types of plywood. There are certainly enough other stores you might like to see.” Isa's smile was crooked and slight, but Lea beamed. Isa hadn’t fully realized what he had just offered, but he found he didn’t regret it when he saw the way Xion lit up.

“Really? That might be fun!” Xion said, looking from Lea to Isa. “There was a little boutique I’d like to see, but Roxas said it looked boring.”

“It does look boring. It’s all these fancy things with frills,” bemoaned Roxas. “I don’t like dressy stuff.”

“Well, maybe I do,” said Xion stubbornly.

Isa shot an amused glance at Lea. “I thought this trip was to shop for school. I didn’t realize skateboards and frills were necessities of education these days.”

“Come on, don’t be lame. We’re shopping for fun, too,” Roxas said, sticking his tongue out at Isa.

Shaking his head, Isa looked back in at the kittens. One of the sleeping ones had just stretched, and Xion squealed in delight. Isa, too, couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you what to do. Shop away.”

“Only ‘cuz you guys are buying.” Roxas grinned, waggling what was definitely Lea’s wallet. 

“When did you—” Lea grabbed at his pockets, front and back, in rapid succession. “You punk, I already told you I was buying! You didn’t have to pinch my wallet!”

“Wanted to see if I could." Roxas shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “Gotta be more careful about who you put in a headlock.”

“Great. I’ve got a klepto on my hands,” Lea replied with faux anguish.

“That’s why my pockets zip up.” Isa smirked. “Luckily, I have my wallet, as well, should said thieves attempt to bleed you dry. Now, did you want that ice cream or not?” 

“I want a kitten,” came Xion’s small voice, sounding far off and full of longing. She was still transfixed by the roly-poly little creatures in the window. 

Lea raised an eyebrow. “Maybe someday, Xion. Come on, let’s go.” He managed to drag her away from the display, though not before she huffed a wistful little sigh, waving the kittens goodbye. Isa followed the three of them to the ice cream shop down the street, and in no time, the four each had a stick of ice cream in hand, courtesy of Isa. Anytime he tagged along with the three, he always bought. It was an unspoken rule, and one he abided by with his usual dedication. 

“Well, you two lead the way,” said Lea, taking a bite out of his ice cream. “Did you guys make those lists of everything you need?”

“Yup!” said Xion, and they both nodded before bounding off towards one of the retail stores. Lea and Isa followed, and Isa remained a few extra feet away, watching as they wove through clothing racks and shelves laden with notebooks and pencils and erasers. It filled him with a strange wistfulness as he watched them go, remembering the far-off days when he and Lea had been schoolmates, when the hardest decision in their lives had been which notebook color to choose for the year. It seemed so impossibly long ago, the rest of the experience cut short by their apprenticeship and… everything else. 

It wouldn’t do to dwell on it. Isa quietly volunteered to carry the steadily growing number of bags, nodding politely and bantering back when he was spoken to, but, as always, he had already retreated inward again. He wasn't sure he would ever know how to do otherwise. 

"Hey, Isa, how're you doing with those bags?" said Lea as they wandered through yet another clothing store.

"It's certainly more than I ever needed."

"Oh, just because you've always been a cheapskate."

Isa snorted. "Fair enough." It was true—Isa, having grown up very poor, never liked lavish spending. His days spent lecturing others, however, he hoped were over, and he pressed his lips into a smile each time one of them presented him with a funny bauble or a strange article of clothing. 

Lea looked him up and down, taking a brief inventory of what they had gotten. It was a good thing the King supplied such generous paychecks for missions well done. Isa had done his best to ignore the price tags. "I dunno about you guys, but I think that's probably plenty. Wanna finish up with the skate shop?"

"I still want to go to the boutique instead," said Xion.

"Alright, alright. We'll split up for now. I'm hungry, so let's meet back at the café once we're done."

"You're still okay with that, Isa?" Xion asked, her voice slightly tentative. Admittedly, the thought did make Isa nervous. He was still uncertain of how to hold a conversation with either Roxas or Xion without Lea's easy facilitation. He certainly wasn't about to say no, however, not when Xion was evidently expressing the fact that she didn't mind spending time with him. The thought made him reel.

"Certainly. Go on. I'll follow."

Xion smiled at him, an earnest expression that made Isa's heart hurt. Lea shot him a glowing look, as well, and Isa brushed it off with a small wave as he followed Xion, who had already bounded off through the crowds. They came to a modest-looking little shop, the window full of elaborate dresses and old-fashioned suits. It looked quite quaint.

"You know," said Isa as Xion opened the door, the bell above it tinkling, "you don't need me to look after you. If you'd like to explore alone, I don't mind. I could stay out here."

Xion turned to look at him, her big blue eyes remarkably genuine. It was hard for him to recall looking at her and seeing nothing but an empty doll. "It's not as fun to go alone. I have to show someone all the stuff that makes me smile!" Her expression was sweet, her sentiment sweeter, and Isa wasn't certain he could bring himself to tell her no ever again.

"Well, then. If you're certain." He followed her in, his arms still laden with bags. Xion waved a greeting to the clerk, and Isa nodded his own, watching Xion’s awestruck gaze as she looked at the clothed mannequins and dresses on their hangers. 

“There are so many different things people wear,” she said softly, gentle wonder in her voice. “I had no idea there were so many different kinds of clothes.” 

“I know. It can be a little overwhelming, sometimes. I’ve always dressed the same way, for as long as I can remember.” Isa wasn’t sure what made him say as much.

Xion raised her eyebrows at him. “Really? I guess your tracksuits do look… comfy.”

Isa laughed through his nose. “Yes, fashion isn’t my strongest suit, either. A decade of nothing but leather coats certainly didn’t help.” He paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It was strange to see Xion so relaxed like this, with her guard down around him. It was… comforting. “But tell me if you find something you like. I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh! Are you sure?” said Xion, her eyes widening as one of her hands rose to her chest.

Isa’s lips quirked upward. “I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Isa. You know, you’re nice.” Xion’s words were quiet and warm, and they sent a funny feeling to Isa’s chest. 

“Hah. Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s the least I can do.”

“No, really. I know you still feel bad about everything, but I really do think you’re nice. Roxas does, too—he just won’t admit it.” There was a touch of mirth to her voice that Isa didn’t fully understand, and his eyebrows furrowed despite himself. 

“Perhaps you’ve been hit on the head too many times. Come on, look through the shop.”

Xion just laughed at that, bright and sweet. “Okay, okay. But first, can I ask you something?” 

Isa forced his lips into a flat line. “Go ahead.”

Xion picked through one of the racks, pulling out a ruffled black skirt and settling it over her arm. “You and Axel have been friends for a long time, right?”

“We have. Since we were far smaller than you and Roxas.”

“Did you do stuff like this with your friends?”

“Like what? Shopping?”

“Yes—shopping, going to school, stuff like that. It’s funny, but I have such a hard time picturing it.”

Isa hummed, readjusting some of the bags in his hands. “Well, I didn’t have any friends besides Lea, so he might be the better one to ask. But I suppose we did what we could. We got into a lot more trouble at your age, though. And he always slacked in school. If Roxas ever asks to copy your homework, say no.” Isa's mouth twitched at the memory, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Xion, however, furrowed her brow.

“You didn’t have any other friends?”

Isa's head snapped over to look at her, his eyes widening. He hadn’t expected her to hone in on that particular fact. He thought stories of their troublemaking would be far more enticing. “Well, no,” he said slowly. He didn’t particularly want to explain the tragedy that had been Subject X. “I’ve never exactly been the social butterfly that Lea is. And I’ve always—how did he put it?—had a bad personality. You know that well enough.”

“That’s sad.” Xion’s soft statement was blunt, but entirely guileless, and Isa couldn’t help but be taken aback. 

“What?”

“I mean, what did you do when Lea was busy? Didn’t you get lonely?”

Isa blinked, fighting his instinctual urge to clam up and deflect. “I… sometimes. You know better than anyone that I had a jealous streak a mile wide. But I was usually fine being left to my own devices when he was away.”

“What about when you two fought? Sometimes Roxas drives me crazy, and I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Axel or Pence to talk to.” Xion sounded genuinely concerned, and Isa found himself with no idea what to say.

“That... is a good question. I suppose I just sulked—at least until Lea eventually came back over to pull me out of it. He would drag me off to get into mischief again until we forgot what we were mad about."  Here came the familiar bitterness rising in his throat, and once again, Isa had to resist the urge to make an excuse to leave. "I was always… a difficult person to be around, even when I was a person. It’s a miracle he’s stuck around this long.”

Xion’s mouth drooped into a thoughtful pout. “You can always change, you know. You have before. Have you tried making any new friends? Like we did with Hayner and Pence and Olette?”

Isa had to fight to keep a look of incredulity off his face. Xion spoke so plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I—I don’t—” Isa stammered, trailing off and pursing his lips as he collected his thoughts. “It’s a bit more… complex for me. I’ve never been much good at it.” He thought briefly of Terra—he needed to reach out again. Terra, at least, had said that they were friends, back when they had met in Twilight Town. Isa hoped he could someday feel that such was true, himself.

“Well, then, you’re my friend, now,” said Xion, spreading her fingers across her chest with a wide smile. “See? Now you have two. It’s not too hard.”

Isa chuckled, shaking his head. “I treasure the honor, Xion. Truly. Perhaps I'll have to learn to take a leaf out of your book.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said, cocking her head to the side as she smiled. “Could I get this skirt?”

“Certainly,” said Isa, an unexpected warmth blooming in him. “Let’s go.”

They checked out, and Isa was sharply aware of the funny look he got from the clerk who had inescapably heard their conversation—Isa quickly decided he would not be returning to this particular shop out of sheer embarrassment, but he did not spite Xion. She spoke from the heart, something he had always envied the ability to do. He trailed behind her as they returned to the bistro, where Roxas was showing off his kickflips in the plaza nearby as Lea cheered him on. Xion waved, and Roxas hopped off, tucking the board under his arm.

“A new one? What’s wrong with your old one?” said Isa as he approached, though he hoped his tone made it clear that he was joking. 

“This one’s cooler,” said Roxas, grinning from ear to ear.

“It was on sale,” added Lea. “Did you guys find anything?”

“Isa got me the skirt I wanted,” Xion chirped. “Because I told him we’re friends now.”

Isa raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so that’s why.”

Xion giggled. “Just kidding.” 

Lea shot Isa a warm look. There was something like pride shining in his eyes—he had all his loved ones in one place without any of them trying to kill each other, after all. “Well, I’m starving,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Let’s eat.”

They sat, Lea ordered too much food, Isa got a drink with too much salted caramel, and he felt both happy and wistful. He knew there would always be something of a rift between himself and others—that no matter where he went, he couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t quite fit. But he sipped his drink and looked on as Lea laughed with Roxas and Xion, and he decided that perhaps it was well past time for him to stop spending so much time alone.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Isa woke up before Lea as he usually did. Carefully extricating himself from the tangle of Lea’s arms so as not to wake him, he made his way to the kitchen and made a new pot of coffee, indulging in too much sugar and cream for his own cup. The sounds of the birds’ morning trills came in through the cracked kitchen window, one of the few natural indicators of the passage of time in Twilight Town. Isa still wondered how the creatures of this world told time, considering the eternal nature of its sunset. One of the first things he himself had done upon joining Lea here was obtain a set of blackout curtains for their bedroom, hoping to mimic the dark of night at the very least. Lea at one point had even brought home a little lamp in the shape of the moon, a gesture Isa had much appreciated―though it only made him long for the real thing. 

Sipping his warm brew, Isa leaned back on the counter and glanced out the window. The air was cool, carrying the crisp scent of autumn’s onset, and he watched as a few of his fellow early risers began to meander through the streets below. He realized that he wasn’t certain he could name more than three or four residents of Twilight Town for himself; since he had been recompleted, he had become something of a recluse. Even more than he had been once upon a time. Sighing, he thought of his and Xion’s conversation the day prior—he had not, in fact, tried making any new friends. The only reason he had managed to keep in touch with the crew at Radiant Garden was because they regularly checked in on everyone that had been involved with the Keyblade War, and Isa wasn’t certain he could call them friends. Amicable associates in a few cases, perhaps, but he was fairly certain the first time he had ever initiated any conversation for himself had been when he had gone to ask Even about the school paperwork. He still felt out of place, lost in time, surrounded by ghosts in the guise of memories. 

Terra came to mind—Isa supposed their chat was the closest he had come in a long while to pursuing a friendship, inadvertent or not. Though their interactions had not been particularly lengthy, there was both a warmth and an uncanny familiarity to Terra that Isa found comforting. They both bore scars, physical and otherwise, that few others seemed to understand, and Terra possessed a genuine guilelessness that Isa admired. A familiar pang of guilt settled in Isa’s heart—he had done an abysmal job thus far at reaching out to him, despite his best intentions. He wondered how Terra was doing, and whether or not he had already been to see Xemnas himself. He wondered if Terra even particularly wanted to see him. 

Isa knew how it felt to look a funhouse mirror-reflection of oneself in the eye—to see a face that was both his and not, changed and twisted in ways he hadn’t intended. Eyes that weren’t the right color, ears the wrong shape, lines of cold malice etched where those of laughter had once been. At least for Isa, he had never had to see the Xehanort-tinged version of himself outside the confines of a mirror. Whether he liked it or not, it had still been him; his own mind, corrupted though Saïx’s thoughts once were, had still been in control of his body.

He sighed as he drained the last of his cup, setting it in the sink. Perhaps he ought to reach out to Terra himself. Maybe the Keyblade wielder could offer some insights into what Isa was supposed to do. Even though the unusual pair’s hearts had finally separated, Terra was still one of the few others who seemed to harbor some understanding of Xemnas―of who and what he had been, of who he was now. The memories they shared must have served to whittle away some of Xemnas’s enigmatic nature for him, and Terra, too, in an odd way, had left his own influence on the Superior of the In-Between. The way he held his shoulders, the way he drank from his teacup―the uncanny sadness that shone behind his wide, somber eyes. 

There had been a gentleness to Terra, too, that struck Isa strangely. It was a gentleness that he felt he may have seen ghostly echoes of before; it had been shattered and broken, odd and twisted at times, but it had been there all the same. Every so often, Saïx had caught a glimpse of it from beneath the heavy proverbial rug under which it had been stifled―a curl of the lip, a peculiar dip of the voice, a fleeting touch of the hand offered amidst the monotonous agony of their day-to-day half-lives. At the time, Saïx had thought it mere affectation, yet more falsehoods with which Xemnas spun his web of deceit. Now, however, Isa… wondered.

To be certain, Isa would never have actively described Xemnas as a gentle man. He was all too often cold, callous, detached from anything and everything by his utter emptiness. On the occasion that Xemnas took punitive measures following a member's failure, it had not been sadistic, not even with feigned anger—rather, it was flat, unfeeling, scathing beneath the skin rather than upon it, and, somehow, that had been worse. The Superior had never been overly prone to violence of a physical nature, his danger lying instead in a peculiar, morose charm, an uncanny charisma that none of them fully understood. Xemnas worked in silken, honeyed words, words that arrested and petrified and filled something as empty as a Nobody from the inside out, and it had worked—for ten years, it had worked, through sheer magnetism and promises of false hope. That was all most of them ever saw; Xemnas’s monologues and distanced orders, swift punishments delivered with chilly precision, cool, calculated remarks that frustrated with their lack of clarity, yet enticed with what they could possibly mean. 

Saïx had not been most of them. Aside from Xigbar, he had been closer to Xemnas than any of the others by the time the Organization had reached its short-lived zenith, and had remained as much even as it declined. Unlike most of the other members, Saïx had spent a good amount of time alone with Xemnas―enough that rumors amongst the ranks, both true and otherwise, had run rampant. Still did. After all, Xemnas generally avoided the direct company of most of his order. For many of them, he was a rare sight outside of Nothing Gathers. He flitted above them, through them, without them, often erring more on the side of phantom than Superior in some ways. 

No, the rest did not know him as Saïx had, because Xemnas had never let them. For whatever reason, Xemnas seemed to have chosen Saïx above the rest, had invited him into his bed and offered him rank and power, all while he avoided and turned others away with bored disinterest. Sometimes, on a few rare occasions, Xemnas even seemed to allow Saïx dangerously close to his own true thoughts. His sentences would meander as he gazed out over the hollow expanse of the World That Never Was, trailing off before he really let anything slip. Yet there had been times when he had come close; times when Saïx stood beside him, hanging on every word, waiting for him to finally spill one of the secrets Saïx knew he kept. Every time, however, Xemnas would turn suddenly, and those orange eyes would light on Saïx, brimming with a strange, unparseable look that Saïx had never fully been able to decipher. Xemnas would fall silent, sinking into one of his odd bouts of flat melancholia, and that was it. But only Saïx ever got so close.

Even still, Isa did not know precisely why, did not know what it was that Xemnas had seen in him so keenly. At one point, he would have chalked it up to Saïx’s skill and capability as the Organization’s adjutant, with his standing offer of a lithe, pliable body providing an added bonus. At another, he had considered it an arbitrary choice, one made out of the mere necessity of an adequate vessel for Xehanort’s heart.

And yet, deep within him, Isa knew there was more to it. Mere underlings, however skilled, were not entitled to nights spent between silk sheets. No other vessel had an unending supply of their favorite shampoo in Xemnas’s shower. Xemnas had never looked at anyone the way he had looked at Saïx, and Isa knew this. He found himself wondering whether Xemnas would ever explain to him why. Somehow, the thought petrified him.

The others knew none of this beyond a general notion of Xemnas’s blatant favoritism. They never saw that curious side of their Superior, the one only Saïx and Xigbar had known. They did not know the way Xemnas swept flyaway hairs from Saïx’s face in the morning when he thought his adjutant still slept, and they did not know that something in him liked the sound of the beach. They did not know that Xemnas had a keen sweet tooth, and that the Superior knew how to cook and cooked well, sometimes sharing his efforts with II and VII. They did not know that he slept with far too many pillows on his far too large bed, and that sometimes, when the two were alone, he would rest his head on Saïx’s shoulder out of some habit that he himself didn’t seem to realize. They did not know that Xemnas, like all of them, grew weary and ill from time to time, pervaded by an uncanny melancholy that ran deeper than any of them could fathom. It was a melancholy that had puzzled Saïx, one that he tried his best to uncover, but Xemnas always clammed up before Saïx got his answer.

Isa traced his fingers across the cool surface of the countertop, swimming in thoughts and memories. He sighed deeply, scratching at a small dent in the surface as he thought of cinnamon orange eyes, of enigmatic smiles and elixirs perched atop neatly folded piles of his clothes. Xemnas had always hated folding clothes otherwise. 

Isa pushed the images away, setting his palm over the dent in the counter and forcing himself out of his winding thoughts. Lea’s snoring drifted to him from down the hall, impressive in its volume. Isa had yet to tell him that he intended to return to Radiant Garden again that day, at least for a few hours. He had meant to mention it offhandedly yesterday, to frame it in such a way that he wouldn’t worry. And yet the mood had been so light, so warm the evening before that Isa couldn’t bring himself to say anything that might upset their careful peace. He did not blame Lea for his apprehension, and would not have blamed Roxas or Xion for their own probable feelings, either. Yet he felt that he had to do this for himself, to follow his own heart, as fragile and lost as it often was. 

Retrieving his phone from where he had left it on the coffee table the evening prior, he saw the tell-tale bubble of a text notification already on his screen. The message was from Ienzo. 

"Good morning, Isa. The Restoration Committee wishes to meet with we apprentices today to address a few topics. I expect we will most likely be discussing the situation with X. If you would like to be present, your input would be welcome."

The message was so formal, and Isa couldn't help but feel a flicker of pity for the young man who had had even less of a childhood than Isa himself. The fact that he referred to Xemnas merely as "X" was an also an irony that made Isa's lips purse. However, the message had given him an easily explainable reason for leaving today, and for that he was grateful. 

"I'll be on my way soon. Go ahead and send a ship."

To hopefully temper Lea's inevitable distaste, Isa put together a meek breakfast that did not involve having to season anything himself, leaving it neat and tidy for the man whose snoring had reached levels that probably necessitated clinical concern. After getting dressed and tidying his appearance, Isa grabbed another scrap of paper—it felt like he had been leaving notes a lot lately.

"The Restoration Committee is meeting with the apprentices today in RG. Ienzo requested me there. See you tonight."

Donning his jacket, Isa slipped out before Lea woke, responding to Ienzo as he walked towards the mansion. Nervousness crept through his heart on the way to Radiant Garden. He had yet to speak with any of the Restoration Committee's central members personally, and he had a sickening feeling that they would be familiar. Old classmates, perhaps. People whose lives he had helped ruin, once upon a time. And yet they had reinstated the other apprentices beneath a watchful eye, so they were clearly not above forgiveness. Isa could only hope, even if he felt he couldn't deserve. 

Dilan and Aeleus greeted him, as usual. 

"Doesn't it get exhausting, going back and forth between here and Twilight Town all the time?” said Aeleus as Isa approached.

“It’s no different than any other travel,” Isa replied. “And it’s better than rotting away with nothing to do.”

“Still the busy little bee,” muttered Dilan. “They’re meeting in the library, last I heard. Aeleus and I will be along shortly. Should be quite the menagerie of personalities―just like old times, eh?” There was a clipped edge to his voice―Isa had heard that Dilan was particularly testy when it came to meeting with anyone outside his usual circle. Pride and guilt could be a difficult combination to reckon with.

Isa merely nodded. “I suppose I will see you there, then.”

When he was young, Isa had enjoyed spending time in the vast library of Radiant Garden, poring over books about stars and moons and the pulls of the tide. Much of his recent work had involved sorting through messes of old books, many damaged and waterlogged beyond repair, the others being carefully sorted by Isa’s thorough hands. Anxiousness lining the edges of his stomach, Isa returned there now, his collar pulled high and his hands tucked into his pockets. 

Ienzo and Even were already there, standing near one of the tall windows and looking at something on Even’s clipboard. There were a few others that Isa found he half-recognized from long ago―a severe-looking brunet man wearing an unnecessary number of belts was conversing with a young woman in a pink dress, and another muscular woman in black was looking through a few of the bookshelves. Isa was fairly certain they had all gone to the same school long ago, and he bit his cheek when he entered. He wondered if they recognized him, too, despite the scar adorning his face. The man had one of his own, at least, Isa noticed. What had his name been? Squall?

“Good morning, Isa,” Even greeted with a curt nod. “Glad to see you could come.”

“Isa?” The woman in black turned from the bookshelves at the name, looking Isa up and down. “Oh, wow. It’s been a long time.” She had long, dark hair and kind red eyes. She came over to join the other two committee members, hands on her hips. “Do you remember us? It’s me, Tifa. Aerith’s here, and Squall goes by Leon now. How’ve you been?”

Isa felt cornered with so many eyes on him, all lighting up in recognition. He did remember them, at least in part; they had been schoolmates, once upon a time. He wouldn’t have called them “friends,” necessarily―Isa had been far too standoffish, even as a child, for that―but the sight of them brought back memories of simpler times, back when the worst group project he’d had to dedicate himself to was a trifold poster. It made his skin itch, knowing that he was looking at the faces of individuals whose lives he had almost undoubtedly had a hand in the destruction of.

“Oh, you know,” he said flatly. “It’s all been quite uneventful since we last saw one another.” Humor had never been his strong suit. 

Tifa looked at him quizzically for a moment, then burst into a laugh. “Well, it’s good to see you’re back, too.”

“How’s Lea?” Squall―Leon―asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Lea’s fine. I’ll tell him I saw you. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know you’re all well.” Isa didn’t mean to sound so stiff, but normal human interaction was still something incredibly alien to him. He wasn’t sure what any of them wanted to hear, exactly, or what they thought of him in the first place.

Aerith stepped forward―Isa remembered her being kind to him, once, when he had been getting mercilessly bullied while Lea was out of town with family. As a pair, he and Lea had been unstoppable, but back then, Isa tended to crumple without Lea’s presence. He wondered if such was still true even now. 

“You and Leon match,” she said with a smile, pointing to the bridge of her nose. 

Isa’s brow furrowed, crinkling the scar she was gesturing to. “How unfortunate for him.” He meant to sound droll, but it had come out colder than he intended. Leon merely raised an eyebrow, but a smirk also seemed to tug at his mouth.

“Now, we aren’t here to interrogate Isa,” Even interjected, glancing to the doorway as Dilan and Aeleus entered alongside Ansem the Wise. “If necessary, you’ll have to do so later, however nice it may be to have us all back in one place.” Ever the brusque academic.

Isa hung back towards a few of the bookshelves, arms and legs crossed as the rest spoke and made their greetings. Aerith and Leon appeared to largely be in charge, and Ansem nodded to them, his authority evidently now answering to theirs. Isa supposed it was to be expected, considering the disaster that appeared in Ansem’s wake a decade prior. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that the apprentices and the Sage King were still walking on impossibly thin ice. They still acted so… authoritative, so sure of themselves. Isa wondered where that came from.

“First thing’s first,” said Leon. “The case with Sora. You’re planning on going through Kairi’s memories, right? Have you talked to her yet?”

“We have,” intoned Ansem. “She is to enter a deep sleep while her dreams and memories are analyzed. We hope to find some clue as to his whereabouts there.”

Isa listened intently. He hadn’t heard about this―he wondered if Lea knew, considering how often he and Kairi were paired up for missions. 

“That’s brave of her,” said Aerith thoughtfully. “But that does mean we’ll be down a Keyblade wielder. Will the others be okay picking up the slack?”

“Sora is important to all of them. I’m certain they won’t hesitate to do so,” Ienzo chimed in. “Kairi will be able to stay here, under our watch. We will do everything in our power to find a lead.” 

“Won’t that leave you guys spread thin, too, then?” Tifa hopped up on one of the library desks, crossing her legs at the ankles. “That’s one more job for you guys to work on, and we’re already shorthanded as it is. With the Villain’s Vale teardown coming up, you sure you’ve got everything under control?”

Isa could sense the direction of this conversation, and his heart pounded in his chest. For now, he said nothing, but his thoughts were racing.

Even, meanwhile, bristled slightly. “If I have to inject stimulants directly into my bloodstream to make certain everything continues to run smoothly,” he snipped, “then I will.”

“We know that, Even,” Aeleus’s deep voice joined in. “But we are spread thin. We could use more hands on deck, especially with the uptick in Heartless lately.”

Isa spoke at last, looking to Even and Ansem. “Have you thought more about what I said?” His voice was low and tentative―he wasn’t certain how much the Restoration Committee knew about the situation with Xemnas, and he didn’t want to be the one to break the news, just in case. 

Even stroked his chin, forehead furrowed in thought. “The proposition does appear to bear merit at this point,” he mused, looking at Ansem. “We are few in number. Perhaps one of our other projects could serve a purpose greater than merely being an object of observation.”

Hah. Isa wondered what Xemnas would think of being referred to as merely a “project.”  

Leon’s eyes, meanwhile, widened. Evidently, Isa noticed with some relief, he understood what Even was referring to. “Him?” he said incredulously. “What makes you think he’d want to help us?”

“I believe you may want to defer to Isa on that.” Dilan sounded bored and irritated―though that may have just been the normal tone of his voice. However, his words sent all eyes turning to Isa, who folded his arms tighter as if it might protect his soul from their searing gazes. Isa sighed.

“The last time I spoke with him,” he began, “he expressed an interest in putting his mind to use again. I don’t believe he would object if his aid was requested; rather, I think he wants nothing more. Now that he has a heart of his own, he―he isn’t the Xehanort you remember.”

Aerith chewed on her lip. “Isa,” she said. “What makes you so sure?”

How many times am I going to have to explain this?

Before Isa could answer, however, Dilan did so for him. For once, it was almost appreciated. “Isa―Saïx, back then―was Xemnas’s right hand for years, in every sense of the word. Nobody knows the old bastard like he does, and he’s been saying the same thing for weeks ad nauseam.” Dilan cast him a sidelong glance with those dark violet eyes. “He’s also a terrible liar.”

Isa’s eyes went wide. He was fairly certain that was the nicest thing Dilan or Xaldin had ever said to him in his entire life.

“You’ve all said it yourselves,” Isa went on, his pulse racing. “We need as much help as we can get. I’m not saying you have to trust him completely, but it would be absurd not to use every resource we have. His breadth of intelligence would come in handy far more if he were permitted to put it to use himself, rather than trying to wring things out of him by force.”

Leon still looked uneasy. “And what if he decides he wants all his old power back?”

“I will take responsibility for him myself, if need be.” Isa surprised even himself with such a statement, but he didn’t back down from it. “You could consider him a… probationary member of your cause. An eye can be kept on him here, and he can actually do something. Ask the apprentices―he’s been of little help confined to a box.”

“True,” said Even. “There does appear to have been a… shift in his disposition.”

Ansem’s face was pinched; he didn’t look particularly happy with this turn of events, but when he spoke, the tone of his deep voice was one of resignation. “As the head of these endeavors,” he said, “I must also agree that seeking his greater aid appears to be the wisest option we possess.”

Isa felt an odd inward sensation akin to gloating.

Aerith went to stand beside Tifa, apparently deep in thought. “You’ve all done some impressive things so far, with all of us in mind,” she said, her voice soft and calm. “Progress has been much quicker with you all back. For my part, I trust what your hearts say is right. Leon?”

“We’ll all keep a close watch on him,” grumbled Leon. “But I say it’s worth a shot. Doesn’t mean I can guarantee he’ll never end up with a set of knuckles to the face.”

Isa snorted, an odd swell of relief mounting in his chest. “It’s a good thing he’s quite resilient, then.”

“Well, looks like that’s settled,” said Tifa, swinging her legs off the table and taking up a spot beside Aerith. “Kairi’s gonna sleep, we’ll rip down Villain’s Vale, and Xemnas will give us a hand. All we can do is keep moving forward, right?”

“A few preparations will need to be made, but we’ve seen tangible progress thus far,” Ienzo said. “I don’t think optimism is a bad idea.” 

Isa stuck around as they discussed a few more logistical things; budgets for construction and deconstruction, the process for Kairi, where Xemnas would stay―or “be kept,” as Ansem put it, though anywhere was better than where he sat now. Xemnas would have some quarter that was not in the haunted, miserable bowels of the castle, somewhere with windows and light where he could begin the arduous process of piecing himself together at last. Isa resolved to himself that the forsaken cells below the castle had seen their last use with Xemnas; he would do everything he could to see them demolished for good down the line. 

It was both frightening and immensely relieving, the idea of Xemnas being released at last. It was frightening not because Isa feared Xemnas wreaking any sort of havoc; no, he doubted that entirely. It was frightening because now, he had even less of an idea of what he was supposed to do and how he was supposed to feel. He took a deep breath, placing his hand over where his heart rapidly beat.

One day at a time.

Chapter Text

It had been almost a week since Isa visited Xemnas down in the cells. Everything in the interim had felt like a whirlwind since the conversation with the Restoration Committee, and Isa hadn't had a chance to go back down since. The apprentices were preparing both for Kairi's sleep and for Xemnas's transferral to a room high up in one of the castle's spires. In a coincidence Isa chose to see as fate, it was similar to the placement of his room back in the Castle That Never Was, albeit far smaller and much more modestly furnished. Isa, meanwhile, volunteered to take on some of the more general, day-to-day responsibilities that the apprentices usually oversaw. Doing so was certainly nothing new, and he stepped into the schedule with relative ease.

Lea, Isa had soon discovered, indeed knew about the plan with Kairi. He had smiled wistfully when Isa asked about it. "Yeah, I was waiting to break the news,” he had said, “but it seems like those guys got to it first. I'm gonna have to work extra missions to pick up where she leaves off. Roxas and Xion'll be busy enough with school, but… you gonna be okay?"

Isa hadn't known how to say that he, too, was about to find himself busier than before. He had found a rhythm in Radiant Garden, a purpose, something that scratched the idle, anxious itch that had settled in his chest these last few months. He would miss Lea when the man was away, to be certain, but where Isa felt he might have once buckled inward at the prospect of the impending loneliness, he felt now that he could stand on his own—that things could strike a balance. 

Ienzo and Even's focus was on Kairi's upcoming slumber and the subsequent analysis of her dreams; Xemnas’s impending release was handled for the most part by Dilan and Aeleus, with occasional input from Isa. There had been debates sparked over whether or not Xemnas's door should lock from the inside or outside, whether he should have a mini-fridge, and just how much of a wardrobe to provide. Dilan had been of the opinion that Xemnas should earn his keep down to the clothes on his back, while Aeleus remained somewhat more sympathetic, insisting on the fridge and at least a few new articles of clothing. Isa himself made certain the room had a modest library; the wall-to-wall bookshelves had been one of the most memorable features of Xemnas’s old room in the old days. Ansem, meanwhile, put a few extra security measures in place, just in case, but Isa didn’t doubt their lack of necessity. Xemnas had never been one for brash displays.

It took seven days in total before Isa saw Xemnas again. He had meant to make the descent sooner, but he supposed that the earlier he could get the cell emptied entirely, the better. Even if that meant his promise to return had to wait a little longer than he intended.

Xemnas, far below, did not know any of this beyond Even’s cursory remark a few days prior. Time passed strangely in the windowless cell, spent so unpredictably between fitful sleep and wake. All he knew was that it had been longer than he had allowed himself to anticipate, and because he did not ask, the apprentices told him little. 

By the fifth day, he was sleeping closer to a normal human amount, as opposed to his fragmented, overlong slumbers across the days prior. Though this left less room for harsh, nightmarish dreams, it allowed more for his waking thoughts, which he found could be worse. Guilt and uncertainty whittled away at him, chipping him apart piece by piece—eating him alive. He stared off into space often, either up at the white ceiling or down at the same paragraph of a book over and over but seeing neither. He had little in the way of an appetite; as much as Dilan and Even, in particular, urged him to eat, the trays he was brought tended to leave largely untouched. Dilan mentioned both himself and Even going through a similarly arduous recovery and that its difficulties passed with time, but Xemnas could scarcely fathom as much ever happening for him.

Everything was too much. Xemnas’s very creation had been incidental, morphed into a purpose that he had always known would lead to his inevitable destruction. He had always known he was a tool, an arm for something beyond himself. That had worked for him, in its way; he had known, even when he had not felt, and that had been a comfort. Now, he knew nothing, had nothing, was nothing―truly nothing, this time, in a karmic twist of fate. His mind, sharp as it was, grappled with the influence of the heart that newly beat in his chest, and moments came now and then where he feared it was losing the battle. 

He didn't know what to do. He had never existed without a goal imposed upon him, without something concrete looming on the horizon for him to machinate towards, without being a gold-gilded cog in a greater machine. His very existence had begun solely as a wandering husk, a shell that acted out of nothing but the driest, coarsest knowledge of what he was predestined to do. He, more than any of them, with his stolen face and his stolen name, was truly never meant to exist as anything more than nothing. 

And yet here he was once more.

Xemnas, down in his cell and lying on his cot, sighed and passed a hand over his face. He remembered how it had been to feel nothing, and then how it had been to smoothly, effortlessly deny those few feelings that did threaten to spring up over the years. Even after they had begun to sprout within him, he had ignored and dismissed them the way only he could; yet their presence had been undeniable, their point of origin traceable. He had been conscientious in keeping a remove from most of his order, aware of the impact Nobodies could bear on one another, and yet two had ended up close to him all the same: Xigbar, who Xemnas had heard with some regret was still missing, and Saïx.  

It was strange. In a way, Saïx had been something of a crux for the burgeoned feelings Xemnas encountered in the later years, a point from which many of them, both positive and negative, were able to emerge. A connection. One Xemnas missed terribly, his new heart longing for the one particular path it wanted to trace―one that once was and always should have been inaccessible. 

Where had it all even begun? 

Between visits from the apprentices, he had ample time to dwell on memories, ones to which he could now retroactively attribute feelings. He discovered that Terra’s memories, the ones that had haunted Xemnas's entire life, had blurred heavily, and those of Xehanort’s apprenticed self had somehow dimmed, too. Xemnas’s clearest memories were from his time as the leader of the first Organization XIII; were from when he was him, if such a thing could even be said. He thought incessantly about those years, marked once so strangely by a complete lack of emotion and now by an overabundance. 

Towards the end, so many of these memories were dominated by azure hair and amber eyes; it was somewhat ironic, considering the fact that for the first few years, Xemnas had barely paid attention to either Axel or Saïx. He had considered them accidents, in a way―mere bonuses to pad the ranks. Zexion had been something of his star protégé for that time, with the other two merely following in footsteps far deeper than Zexion’s size and age seemed like they should have been able to create. 

But then, half a decade into their Organization’s near-pointless work, Saïx had learned how to go Berserk. It was then that he caught Xemnas’s eye. 

Xemnas remembered it clearly. It had been the night their moon had first begun to germinate in the infinite night sky of the World That Never Was. He remembered Xaldin rushing into his office from training, nursing an injured shoulder and growling to him about “the blue brat going feral.” Xemnas had followed him up to one of the training spires, following the sounds of hoarse bellowing and loud crashing. 

The room later came to be known as the Addled Impasse. It was the place where Xemnas first saw Saïx with his blue hair flying wildly, vocal cords screamed raw as his eyes shone with bestial, unseeing light. The pale, watery rays of the false infant moon streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Saïx had drunk from it deeply, his body a perfect vessel for moonlight and fury as everything that originally furnished the room was destroyed beneath an equally-enraged claymore. 

Xemnas had seen nothing like it before, stunned just long enough for Saïx to land a blistering blow on his superior. A rare feat, indeed; he had nearly severed one of Xemnas's legs. Xemnas had then taken it upon himself to subdue Saïx, and in the process had callously bestowed the mark between Saïx’s eyes. It functioned as a means of controlling and channeling the otherworldly power, and with it―in an act of impulse―Xemnas had delivered a fragment of Xehanort’s heart. The first beyond Xigbar’s and his own. He remembered doing so vividly, the searing twin slashes of his blades knocking Saïx out of what had seemed an unstoppable frenzy―but not without dealing lasting harm of their own. The young man was consequently left inscribed with an initial, a recusant's sigil inflicted on one whom Xemnas had briefly thought was turning against them in violence. 

He had known so little about Saïx then. 

When the glow abated, Saïx’s green eyes had been painted over a piercing orange-gold. The effect, along with Saïx’s newly-pointed ears, was something that could easily be attributed to this new ability rather than to the fragment of Xehanort that Saïx now housed, and that had been Xemnas’s explanation. Saïx had fallen unconscious for three days, face wrapped in bandages as he fitfully slept beneath Xemnas’s watchful eye. Once he had woken and recovered, he quietly, penitently confessed to Xemnas how the moon's power had surged through his veins, that it had overtaken him and his faculties, and that he expected it would happen again. Thus, Xemnas's focus shifted towards the honing and development of Berserk as an ability, not as a hindrance―and thus his attention had been turned towards Saïx.

Cool, clever, graceful, brutish Saïx. Saïx worked so hard, was so diligent, juggling his new uncanny ability with the added responsibilities he gradually took on and the scheming Xemnas caught onto later. The wound healed into a silvery scar, and Saïx's quiet strength and dedication gradually pushed him deep into Xemnas's favor. As did, Xemnas remembered, far-off memories of blue hair and another soft-spoken, yet resolute voice. 

Where Terra’s memories of Aqua ended and Xemnas’s strange longing for Saïx began, Xemnas often wondered, images of the two swimming in his mind―but Aqua’s image had grown faded and distorted with time, Saïx’s all the clearer, and Xemnas grew to know Saïx and his company beyond some preconceived notion from a past life that wasn’t his. By the time Saïx first slyly asked to share his bed, Xemnas had not hesitated to take his adjutant between his sheets. Nothing in the world had seemed more natural.

All of this was in spite of Saïx’s collusions with Axel, the ones that Xigbar often brought cautionary word of. Xemnas had quickly found that he did not care what Saïx did nor why, so long as he stayed at Xemnas’s side. Even if he was plotting Xemnas's own demise; Xemnas knew he was destined for a short non-life, anyway.

What a fool he had been. And what a fool he still was. Saïx had never borne him any true loyalty. Xemnas had always known that. Why should Isa be any different? That ridiculous fool, Lea, had always had Isa’s heart, and Xemnas was left burning with a frightening envy he wasn’t sure he entirely recognized. 

You have feelings for him, don't you?

Even’s words had returned to him many times since they had spoken, swimming through Xemnas’s idle thoughts. Did he? Could he? Is that what all of this meant? Xemnas, as he had found himself about so many things, was uncertain. The thought of it stung in his chest―as did the fact that it didn’t matter either way. Isa was free from him now, untethered by obligation, and even despite the strange goodwill he seemed to bear for his former superior these days, he would not―could not―ever come to know the depths of what Xemnas now seemed to feel for him. 

By what he supposed was somewhere around the seventh day after his waking―though it had felt far longer―Xemnas had begun tamping down the hope he had allowed himself to grow in earnest. When he heard the whirr of the door opening, he didn’t immediately open his eyes where he lay on his thin bed. The apprentices were all used to him sleeping, anyway, and sometimes he pretended to be more deeply asleep than he was simply to avoid the looks they lent him.

“Bloody bastard’s sleeping again,” he heard Dilan grumble. 

“Something tells me he won’t mind being woken up this time,” came Aeleus’s voice in reply. Once upon a time, waking Xemnas had been one of the Organization’s cardinal sins unless one was Xigbar or Saïx; even then, the sleepy-eyed glare Xemnas tended to fix them with generally put even those two off doing so unless it was absolutely necessary. The apprentices seemed to have retained some notion of this, as they had never tried forcing him awake at any point.

“Does sleep not help his heart maintain its stability, for now? Would it be wise to disturb him?”

That voice. 

Xemnas shifted, his heavy eyelids drawing open as he fought to determine whether this was another of his eerie dreams or not. He had encountered enough with similar beginnings, ones that usually ended in grotesque nightmares.

“Oh, there he goes.” Dilan snorted gruffly. “All he needed was his favorite alarm clock.”

Xemnas blinked his vision into focus, eyes adjusting to the light as he sat up. He was surprised to notice that the door had been left wide open. Dilan and Aeleus came into view, and there, too, standing slightly off to the side, was Isa. Xemnas said nothing at first, gaze flickering in confusion between Dilan and Aeleus before dragging back to Isa’s pale, scarred face. The face Xemnas  had left in such a state. He could have healed the mark back then, if he had wanted to. But instead, he had used it to test Saïx's loyalty, to see if Saïx was dedicated enough to bear Xemnas's brand on his face. And Saïx had been. Of course he had been. Isa still bore that painful decision square between his eyes, and always would.

Xemnas looked away, stricken with a sudden hollowness. Not the barren kind he had once known so intimately, but the kind where it felt like pieces of him had been gouged away with some dull implement, where the wound was left to bleed.

“Well,” said Isa. There was a strange edge to his voice―something jittery, almost like mirth. It was perplexing. “Good morning, Xemnas.”

How many times had Saïx said the same thing? And how many times had Xemnas truly appreciated it? There was too great a discrepancy between those numbers, and it only made the ache worse.

“...Good morning.”

“It’s four in the bloody afternoon.” Dilan spoke bluntly, as if the specific time had much bearing for Xemnas in his windowless, clockless cell. It had been ages since Xemnas had much of a visual metric for time at all beyond the castle’s clocks, considering the endless night of the World That Never Was. 

“We've got some good news,” said Aeleus, a hand on his hip. “Master Ansem and the Restoration Committee have decided to enlist your help, if you want to offer it. The proposition also comes with a room up in the castle and more personal freedoms. No more cells.”

Xemnas heard him distantly, almost like he was in another room. “...What?” he said, speaking his only single-syllabic thought aloud.

“You’re no longer a prisoner.” Isa’s voice was lighter and a little sweeter around its edges than Saïx’s had been, but just as even and mellifluous. Xemnas enjoyed its sound either way―its quiet smoothness, the roundness lent to its vowels. “You can get out of this place and aid the castle with its endeavors instead.”

Xemnas’s brow furrowed in shock and deep thought. That quickly? Why? Was what Even said you were doing true? Would Lea not have stopped Isa from such pursuits? And why would Isa be making them in the first place? Xemnas didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, understand. 

“I…” he began. He found it difficult to meet Isa’s eyes. “I may have to think on it.”

One of Dilan’s impressive eyebrows arched, his nose wrinkling. “You’re going to think on it? What is there to think about? Do you want to stay in this godforsaken place?”

No, Xemnas did not. But neither was he sure that getting out of it was a better option. What was out there for him beyond more aching of the horrible thing beating in his chest? He was loathed and feared universally, justly so, and that was not likely to soon change. Whether in a cell below or the castle above, Xemnas would be alone, left with the pain of a heart burdened by regret and all-consuming loneliness. Isa may have helped him now for some unfathomable reason, but Xemnas knew he was also endlessly devoted to Lea. The thought of inevitably seeing this devotion evidenced for himself… Xemnas wasn't certain he could bear it. Part of him was still waiting, hoping, to simply not wake up one of these days—it would be so much easier to simply return to nothingness again. And yet he always woke up.

“Xemnas…” Isa’s voice again, so familiar and yet so different. So full of life. “All the arrangements have already been made. Your room is prepared. You don’t have to think about anything else here―we came to take you up there now.” 

Xemnas forced himself to look upward through his eyelashes. He saw that familiar line of concern, a little crease between Isa’s eyebrows that he recognized in a heartbeat. Isa’s eyes, compared to Saïx’s, were softened slightly, both by their newly-reacquired viridian hue and by the humanity that came with a full-fledged heart. Yet they were still just as striking, and the look they bore cut Xemnas to the bone. Why do you look at me like that? With such concern?

“You’re certain of this?” Xemnas spoke dully. “Even with who and what I am?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Aeleus leaned on the open doorframe. “A chance to study again?”

To what end? Xemnas remained silent for a moment longer, collecting his thoughts. Did they truly want his help? And with what? What would they be working towards? What would they have him, of all wretched things, do?

At length, Xemnas finally spoke again. “Is this what you want of me?” His voice was feeble and hoarse in his own ears, and his eyes met Isa’s for a moment before he tore them away again.

“I didn’t trudge up the stairs with a blighted miniature refrigerator for nothing,” said Dilan with a huff. “There’s no way I’m letting you stay down here and have all that effort go to waste. The thing’s even full.”

“There’s no reason to remain in this place any longer.” Isa’s cool voice now bore an urgency, almost a plea. It was no surprise. He hated it down here. Xemnas knew as much, knew about Isa’s ties to the girl Xehanort had lost track of long before Saïx had begun subtly inquiring about her. He couldn’t blame Isa for wanting to avoid the basement. “You told me yourself that you wish to rekindle your spirit for research. Now you can. You can prove yourself out there, as we have all been trying to.”

Xemnas chuckled hollowly. “I differ significantly from the rest of you,” he managed to say, “but if this is truly an endeavor you wish to pursue, then… I will do my utmost to ensure your work is not in vain.”

“Differ from us how?” Dilan narrowed his eyes. “The fact that we actually eat the meals people offer us? You’re not special anymore, Xemnas. You’re just like the rest of us, now.”

Xemnas was uncertain whether Dilan had meant that as a reassurance or an insult.

Aeleus shifted, nodding his head towards the doorway. “Come on, then. The sooner we get out of here, the better. This place… none of us like it.”

Xemnas breathed a short laugh through his nose as he stood, clothes rustling softly. “Lead the way, then.”

It was something of a trek to Xemnas’s new room from the basement. Dilan and Aeleus walked in front of him, and Isa took up the rear, heart pounding in his chest. In the week since he had seen Xemnas, his former Superior’s skin had grown sallow, eyes and cheeks sunken. He looked thin, too, and the comment Dilan had made seemed to explain why. Concern gnawed away at Isa―Xemnas seemed much worse off than he had been the last time they had spoken. He chewed on his lip in thought. What were you expecting, Isa, sunshine and rainbows? And yet he found himself feeling unsettled all the same. He’s out now, he reminded himself. That’s all that matters.

Xemnas was quiet as they scaled the stairs up out of the basement, and he did not look back at Isa as they did so. Thankfully, the castle had electrical, elevator-like platforms that could navigate from floor to floor beyond the basement, and the four took one up to the high spire where the new room lay. Dilan and Aeleus attempted some small talk, which was largely ineffectual; Xemnas remained largely taciturn, and seemed to be avoiding Isa’s attention in particular. All of it settled strangely in Isa’s heart. Have I done something wrong?

There was only one way to and from the room they had prepared, and they scaled the spiral staircase that led up to it. Earlier, the stairs had been on the receiving end of some choice curses from Dilan as he tried to navigate the fridge up them. When they reached the landing at the top, Aeleus opened the awaiting oak door, gesturing inward with a nod to Xemnas. “Here are your new quarters.”

The walls were a warm-toned brick, and there was a small fireplace over on one side between two doors that led to a bathroom and a small walk-in closet. The room was rather small, but the bed was larger than the pitiful cot in the cell, and it had a nightstand and lamp beside it. There was a desk in front of a window that looked out over the horizon, and there was also a bookshelf Isa had populated with pieces taken from his sorting of the library. And, of course, the mini-fridge. 

“It’s not much, but it’s not the damned basement,” said Dilan, tapping the doorframe with the palm of his hand. “Though I know you used to have expensive tastes, once upon a time. I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“It’s plenty.” Xemnas’s voice was quiet as he stepped inside. Isa still couldn’t see his face, and couldn’t tell what he was thinking from the tone of his voice alone.

“Your curfew, on Ansem’s orders, is eight o’clock,” Aeleus said. “You may not yet leave the castle without supervision, but beyond that, you may go about it at your own discretion. There are clothes for you in the closet. You may throw away what you’re wearing now once you’ve changed.”

Xemnas had gone to the bookshelf, running his hand along a few of the spines. He moved like a man in a dream, slow and stiff. “Understood.” 

Dilan grunted. “We’ll leave Isa to explain the rest,” he said, shooting Isa a pointed look. “I won’t tell Lea if you decide to test out the bed.”

Isa merely rolled his eyes. However, at the same moment, he also caught sight of a flinch in Xemnas’s shoulders, and it sent a small frown tugging at Isa’s scar. “Does that officially make me a trustworthy member of this team, then?” he shot back at Dilan, raising a thin eyebrow with his deflection.

Dilan shrugged. “You’re the one who put your head on a platter if he botches anything.”

“We’ve got to get back to work,” Aeleus interjected, settling a hand on Dilan’s shoulder. “Everything should be in place as needed, but you know where to find us if you need anything.”

Isa just nodded, and the two guards left, murmuring something between themselves as they descended the staircase. Then he turned back to Xemnas, who had remained strangely silent as he continued looking over the books on the shelf. “Xemnas,” Isa said, instinctively closing the door behind him as he entered the room. “How are you feeling?” He was sharply aware of how strange and unfamiliar the question was as it hung in the air.

Xemnas finally turned to look at him, his hand falling away from the bookshelf. He looked deeply, profoundly exhausted, far more so than Isa had ever seen him before. It was… eerie, in a sense, seeing such a pinnacle of grace and strength looking so defeated. Even if he deserved it.

“I don’t know,” Xemnas replied quietly, still avoiding Isa’s gaze. 

Why aren’t you looking at me? You did before. What’s happened? Isa folded his arms with a sigh, leaning back against the door. “I do recall feeling a similar way. It will pass with time.”

“The others have told me the same thing.” Xemnas’s voice sounded as tired as he looked. “But all of you… you at least had hearts that were once your own to recover. I do not. This thing―” Xemnas placed a hand over his chest, “―knows nothing. Understands nothing.”

“Is that why you haven’t been eating?” Isa pushed himself up off the door, taking a few steps towards Xemnas. “An empty stomach won’t heal an overfilled heart. You need to take care of yourself.” He pointed to the small fridge.

Xemnas laughed a little. “Were you always a mother hen, and I merely did not notice?” His words, though apparently attempting some sort of humor, were tinged with a deep sorrow. It was still so uncanny, seeing Xemnas clearly feel. 

“In perhaps the most negative sense only.” Isa forced a small smile, but let it quickly fade. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back down sooner. It has been… a busy few days.”

Xemnas merely shook his head. “Why,” he said slowly, “would you ever find it necessary to apologize to me, Isa? You owe me nothing. Less than nothing.”

“I don’t go back on my word lightly.” Isa shifted his weight from one foot to the other, settling one of his hands on his hip. “I told you I would be back. So I am.”

“So you are.” Xemnas looked out the window from where he stood, the natural sunlight catching in the silver of his hair as it shifted around his shoulders. He had always left it unkempt, but it looked flatter than usual today.

The air felt impossibly heavy and awkward, and finally, Isa just jutted his chin towards the closet. “Why don’t you go change? That doesn’t look like it’s comfortable.” It was true. The medical-grade garments Xemnas had been wearing appeared to be little more than glorified layers of scratchy tissue paper.

Xemnas looked a little surprised, but nodded and slipped into the closet without a word. When he came back out, he was wearing a black turtleneck and light gray pants, his old garments crumpled in hand. He set them aside, looking out the window. He still bore that uncanny sadness in his eyes, but Isa noticed in the natural light that they were, in fact, a warmer, deeper shade of orange than before―as if the cold yellow of Xehanort’s darkness had left them. Just from looking at him, it was obvious that Xemnas had lost a fair amount of weight, but he was still naturally broad and strong. The clothes fit him well. Isa had been the one to choose their size.

“I suppose this is more comfortable. Though it has been a long time since I wore anything besides the coat. I do not have much of a metric for comfort otherwise.”

Isa offered a half-smile and took a seat on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs and idly bobbing his foot as he glanced out the window for himself. The town and flowerbeds could be seen far below, and the sun was just beginning to sink. It was a striking view, he supposed, though he was too distracted to really appreciate it. “The last time I spoke with you,” he began, looking directly at Xemnas, “you said you wanted to come to understand your heart. That you wished to study again. That is what the researchers intend to allow you to do. All of us here… we’re trying to make amends. Is that what you want, too?” What did Xemnas want? Had he even thought about it? Or was he, like Isa, at a loss without some tangible end goal in sight?

Xemnas sighed, passing one of his large hands over the top of the desk. “I am very tired, Isa," he murmured. "This has all… been quite the awakening. But I will do whatever needs to be done.”

He was being perfectly, frustratingly vague again. He seemed so largely different, now, and yet still visibly retained some core that made him Xemnas. 

“And what needs to be done?”

“That is not for me to decide any longer. If I ever decided such things at all.”

Isa’s mouth twitched slightly. Still so overdramatic. “Xemnas―” he began, instinctively shifting to place his own hand over Xemnas’s. Isa didn’t get far in his statement; when Isa’s hand settled over his own, Xemnas flinched again, drawing his hand back like it had been badly burned. Isa’s eyes widened at the sudden movement, and at the pained look that immediately came over Xemnas’s face.

“I… I’m sorry.” Xemnas’s voice was deep, the edges of it raw with emotions that had gone untapped for nearly a decade. His brow was knit tightly, forehead furrowed, and his eyes―they made Isa’s heart ache, even averted as they were to the ground, the desk―anything aside from Isa’s own. “Perhaps it is best... if you go for now, Isa.”

There was still so much left that Isa had intended to tell him. He had meant to explain what was going to happen with Kairi, what the scientists hoped to find, what they hoped for Xemnas’s help with. And yet all of it died on the tip of his tongue. All he managed was a soft, “If you wish.”

Xemnas did not reply, holding still as a statue as he stared intently at the grain of the wood. The hand Isa had touched was drawn into a fist at his chest. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Isa quietly promised, to no further response. Though his gaze caught on the hunch of Xemnas’s shoulders, he left without another word. He lingered on the landing for a moment, trying to fight the chill of uncertainty that wrapped its icy claws around his heart. It did little good, and he descended the staircase with a pit welling in his belly.

Chapter Text

Isa left, and Xemnas heaved a deep, shaky sigh, leaning forward on the desk. He could still feel the weight of Isa’s hand on his.

Pain is being human, Xemnas.

Xemnas thought then, perhaps, that he was not cut out for humanity. The warmth of Isa’s palm, his proximity, had made Xemnas’s heart pound as rapidly as a rabbit’s. It was a profoundly unfamiliar sensation, to say the least. A strange, constricted feeling had brewed in his chest upon the contact, paralyzing him and sucking the breath from his lungs. Xemnas had never known panic before in his life, and yet he recognized it—and he couldn’t pinpoint why he felt it now.

He knew he felt guilty. Undeserving of Isa’s attention and consideration. And yet he was so ravenously hungry for it, enough so that Isa’s touch had made his entire arm feel like it was on fire. Enough so that the greed he felt at the idea of having Isa to himself again burned in him, white-hot and all-consuming. It was all so overwhelming―this room, the books, the sunlight, and Isa himself, who, for some reason, had concern tinging his quiet, stern voice and his severe sea-glass eyes. Xemnas could hardly bear it. He sank into the seat at the desk, staring blankly at the door. It had shut only moments ago. 

Immediately upon asking Isa to leave, Xemnas had regretted it. Part of him had hoped that Isa would disobey. No, not disobey―it had not been a demand, after all. Perhaps he had simply hoped that his once-adjutant would manage to wordlessly disentangle whatever it was that Xemnas really wanted, as he had so often managed to do in the past. Though it wasn’t like Xemnas himself knew what he really wanted anymore.

Isa had asked if he desired to make amends. Was that what he wanted? To try and right the countless wrongs he had unleashed over the years? Did he even possess the capacity for the selflessness it would take to try? Xemnas wasn’t sure. He had never acted on any such inclination before, and doubted the possibility of ever wresting himself out from the shadow he had cast in his own wake. He wondered if it was even worth trying—though he supposed there was nothing else he could do, anyway. If he had to live again as a shell of a man, this time strapped with a heart rather than without, then he supposed that was his deserved lot. At least until someone else decided a different fate for him.

He still wondered what it was that Isa truly wanted, too. The apprentices wanted to study Xemnas’s heart, and they wanted to use anything he might know to aid in their restoration projects. That much Xemnas knew. But Isa seemed… separate from their pursuits, at least regarding Xemnas specifically. It was clear that he, too, was working to restore this world, but it was the fact that he still harbored some strange sympathy for Xemnas that the former Superior could not parse. 

Saïx had been easy for Xemnas to read, once. His desires had been clear and simple and impossible to hide, no matter how diligently he had tried to do so. He was so pure, so idealistic, in his snakelike way―it had made him easy to direct, especially considering Xemnas always knew exactly what was dangling at the end of the line Saïx was chasing. He had been the one to put the carrot there on more than one occasion, after all. But here and now, with Xemnas’s thoughts clouded by his new heart, Xemnas felt he could no longer piece Isa together. It ran the risk of too much wishful thinking on his part, and there were too many variables he no longer understood. He plainly no longer knew, and it frustrated him.

In the past, Xemnas had been nothing if not patient. How many years had Xemnas spent simply waiting, biding his time until things played out, until opportunities fell into his lap? He had waited for their castle to be built, he had waited for projects and research to be presented to him, he had waited for his moon to grow, and he had waited for Saïx to come to him, over and over again. Ever passive, ever delegating, ever patient, because he could not truly want. Nothing was his but time—time that he didn’t mind stretching because what came at the end of it wouldn’t be his, either. Complacent. Negligent. Patient.  

And here he was now, laid low by a week, at most, of simply not knowing. 

Xemnas sighed, looking out the window. It was strange to see the sun again. He had spent so many years in a world of constant night, after all. He had realized while in his cell that he missed their old castle, full of empty halls and spires, and he missed the dark city below with its rain-slicked streets and neon lights. The World That Never Was, in spite of all its darkness and all its emptiness, was the only home Xemnas had ever known—home to the vast majority of memories Xemnas could call his own—and he could not help but miss it. And especially, he found, did he miss the potent, otherworldly light of their Kingdom Hearts, hanging heavy in the sky as it shone down on their forsaken world. 

Funny, he thought, how the two things that had borne the greatest gravity to him in his old life were both the moon itself and its cold, pretty disciple.

Rising from his seat and glancing back over the room, Xemnas undressed, leaving his new clothes hanging over the back of the chair. He didn't have the energy to fold them. Like a man in a dream, fingers dragging across the desk, he went to the bed, sinking into the mattress. It was at least more comfortable than the thin cot of his prior cell. Despite the relatively early hour, Xemnas closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. Instead of dreaming, all he could do was think.

Dilan and Aeleus were still conversing quietly near the foot of the stairs when Isa descended them, a frown tugging at his scar. Dilan heard him and turned, cocking a thick eyebrow. 

“That was quick. What happened?”

Isa shook his head. “Nothing.”

Dilan didn’t look convinced. “From that sour look, it doesn’t look like it was nothing. What, are you not the favorite anymore?”

“Dilan,” Aeleus chided, his attention turning to Isa, too. “Were you able to get him brought up to speed, Isa?”

“When I said nothing, I meant nothing.” Isa folded his arms, discombobulated and a little bristled from Xemnas’s unexpected reaction to—to him, apparently. “It wasn’t the time. I’ll fill him in later once he’s settled in.” Why am I defensive? He’s the one who told me to leave.

There was a snort from Dilan. “Settled in? It’s not a vacation, Isa. Time is of the essence. He’s got no room to complain.”

“And what was I meant to do? Slap his knuckles with a ruler and have him sit at the desk while I deliver a lecture he doesn’t want to listen to?” Isa didn’t know how to communicate to the pair before him that it seemed like Xemnas did not currently want to see him, contrary to what he had said before, and that Isa had no idea why. Even worse, Isa realized that it stung a little, the way Xemnas had refused to look at him—the way he’d flinched away from his touch. 

Perhaps he’s had a proverbial change of heart about me, after all, Isa thought bitterly. Then his scar crumpled further. 

…Why am I bitter?

Meanwhile, the corner of Dilan’s mouth twitched downward. “Someone’s testy. Heartfelt reunion not going as smoothly as you wanted?”

“Dilan,” Aeleus said again, placing a hand on the other guard’s shoulder. “It’s not all that important. He was dead asleep when we grabbed him, so maybe he’s still groggy, is all. Give him a night of sleep on an actual mattress, and one of us can try talking to him again tomorrow.”

Isa wondered if there was any merit to that assumption. Something in him doubted it. Xemnas’s reaction to him had been startlingly… visceral. “...He did say he was tired,” he said, looking off down the hall absently, voice flat.

Dilan huffed a little. “He’s a pain, is what he is. You would think he’d be at least a little appreciative, getting a cozy new room all to himself.”

“You yourself were totally out of commission for a month after your recompletion, Dilan,” Aeleus reminded him gently. “It’s not like I have an overabundance of sympathy for him, but we might have to accept that there are going to be things we can’t force.”

“Tch.” Dilan’s mouth merely dipped deeper into a frown. "You were always soft."

“It’s no use bickering over it. It is what it is.” Isa spoke as much to himself as to the other two. “I told him I would be speaking with him tomorrow, and that’s what’s going to happen.” 

“Fine. Do what you will. He’s your responsibility, now,” Dilan said, though he sounded somewhat half-hearted in his coldness after Aeleus's admonishment. 

My responsibility. Isa wasn’t sure he liked the term, and yet he would bear it, just as he had borne the other responsibilities of his past. Responsibilities he had given himself, responsibilities he had been assigned by some force or another—there was always something. At least this time he was trying to do good rather than harm.

Aeleus clapped Isa on the shoulder, then, startling him just a little. “It’ll be alright, Isa. You’ve done plenty. Why don’t you take some time and relax? You look tense.”

Disgruntled, Isa exhaled shortly through his nose. He’d never been very good at relaxing—but he had been working almost nonstop the last few days.  “...We’ll see.” 

“You could always go explore the city,” Aeleus went on. “A lot has changed since the old days.”

“He bloody well knows that,” Dilan grumbled, scuffing the floor a little with his boot. “Well. I’m going to get back to work. We’re trusting your judgment, Isa. Check back in again tomorrow and let us know how it all goes with him.”

Isa nodded. “I will.” 

The two guards departed, and Isa was left alone with his thoughts. Part of him wanted to go back up the stairs to double-check on Xemnas, and another part wanted to go throw himself into work again so he could avoid trying to figure out exactly why his mood had dropped substantially from its high point that morning. 

What he needed, he realized, was someone to talk to—someone who at least understood things a little bit. His first thought, of course, was Lea, but he had been working double with Kairi, trying to catch up on as much as they could before she went to sleep, and he wouldn’t even be home for a few days more now that Roxas and Xion had started school. In the past, Isa might have been envious, even paranoid, about how much time Lea was spending away, but now, with his own heart and his own newly-acquired host of duties, Isa hoped only that Lea was safe and not pushing himself too hard. And besides, he doubted Lea would want to hear about Isa being disappointed that Xemnas hadn't treated him with more warmth. He wasn"t sure he would even have the heart to be honest with him.

Isa chewed on his cheek as he thought, finally drawing out his phone and drafting a message to a number he had yet to use.

“Hello, Terra - it’s Isa. Sorry I haven’t reached out sooner… been busy. If you’re nearby, want to stop by Radiant Garden? We could catch up.”

He rewrote and reworded the message at least five times before finally huffing a breath and sending it, feeling like something of an idiot. I really don’t know how to talk to people.  

Pocketing his phone while he waited for a reply, he cast one more look up the stairs before heading for the library. It was the most comfortable place in the castle for him, with its tall, laden shelves and comfortable armchairs—an easy place to look innocuous. He had been helping to restore and reorganize it over the last few days. 

He was rather surprised when it didn’t take long to feel the bulky phone buzz in his pocket. Immediately, he pulled it back out, opening the new message from Terra. 

“Good timing… Aqua and I just wrapped up in a world close by... It’d be great to see you again... :) - Terra ✰ ” 

Isa was torn between feeling relieved, surprised, and nervous. He almost never reached out to anyone. Any time he had in the past, it had been for artificial, manipulative reasons; for his own gain, either personal or for the Organization. Is that what I’m doing again? he worried to himself. Was he being self-centered, asking Terra to spend time with him, especially when Isa was bearing the hope that Terra would help assuage some of his own fears? Isa didn’t know. He didn’t know how a normal friendship was supposed to work. He’d only ever really had Lea. 

He took another deep breath and replied.

“I’ll meet you in the plaza, then?”

Terra’s reply came quickly.

“See you soon… :) - Terra ✰ ”

Isa just looked at his screen for a moment before he sighed and put it back away, leaving the library almost as soon as he had arrived and slipping quietly out of the castle. He headed towards the plaza, face tucked, as usual, behind a high coat collar as he waited for Terra. He did his best not to pace, trying to cool down the gears of his brain as they dedicatedly continued their apparent self-assigned mission of working overtime. 

“I missed you. You are special to me.” 

Xemnas himself had told him as much, looking at him with those big, mournful amber eyes. He had visibly perked up when Isa first visited his cell, and he had asked tentatively, hopefully, whether or not Isa intended to return. And yet Xemnas had also lied to him before—lied about their hearts, their future, their ultimate goal, in the unchanging face of it all. Xemnas had known of Saïx's plans to backstab him, and yet for some reason he had masqueraded as though he hadn't, keeping his adjutant close, kissing his brow when they woke together as though what they had in the old days could be described as anything but a snake eating its own tail. And now there was another change in him already; a pointed remove, a measured avoidance of Isa's gaze and attention and touch, even after everything he had said only a few days prior. 

Isa wanted to unravel all his strange behavior, wanted to know the truth—the real truth—of what Xemnas now felt, what he was. Even though the notion frightened him.

Isa wandered through the plaza as he thought, checking the time every so often. Sure enough, the sight of two Keyblade gliders soon whizzed down through the sky: one Isa recognized as Terra’s, and the other, a steely blue, he didn’t. That must be Aqua.

Isa felt achingly awkward, standing there and waiting. He didn’t—he didn’t meet with friends. At best, he tagged along as Lea’s plus one, any social success of his own hinging on Lea’s charm and easeful facilitation in the face of Isa’s intrinsic difficulty. He had no idea what to say in greeting, nor how to navigate any sort of niceties between casual acquaintances—he had never been a people person even when he'd been a person.

And yet conversation with Terra had sprouted easily enough before, hadn’t it? Terra, of course, had been the one to suggest they talk, but he had also said that he found Isa easy to talk to. Then again, Terra had also apparently inherited memories of Saïx from Xemnas, undoubtedly including those of him bent over a desk, or spreading his legs, or— 

…Lea's right. I need to start thinking less. 

Hoping his expression didn’t bear too much of a resemblance to a grimace, Isa shielded his eyes with one hand, raising the other with a small wave towards the two as they descended. They landed, and their gliders dissipated as they disembarked. Terra hit the pauldron on his shoulder, and he shook out a mane of unruly brown hair as his armor vanished. “Good to see you again, Isa,” he said with a reciprocating wave.

The figure who could only be Aqua walked beside him and did the same, her own sleek blue hair just brushing her muscular shoulders. Isa had briefly met her before, but, as with Terra, had exchanged few words. “Hello,” she said as they approached Isa, her voice as quiet and gentle as her smile. She spread a hand open on her chest. “I’ve heard a little about you. I’m Aqua.”

Isa smiled, trying to make sure it didn’t look strained. There was no reason for it to be, right? He was just self-conscious. And for some reason, there was a strange feeling on the back of his neck as he looked between the two Keyblade wielders. “I’m glad to see you both. Is everything well?”

“It is,” said Terra. “We just finished a Heartless clean-up mission. More of them have been popping up in worlds around here lately—has everything been okay in this one?”

Isa nodded. Lea had mentioned something similar a while back, too. “As far as I know. The city’s defense mechanism seems fairly effective, even with any surges in number.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Aqua with a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to see this world being restored. I still remember the gardens here being so pretty.”

“They were.” Isa’s voice took on a note of wistfulness. He had spent a lot of summer nights sitting up above the gardens, eating ice cream with Lea. And he had also contributed directly to the destruction of those gardens. He quickly cleared his throat. “Well. I’m afraid I didn’t put much thought into this. Do you want to get coffee?” That’s what they had done last time, after all, and there were a few cafés nearby that he remembered.

“Happy to.” Terra smiled at him, and yet again, it was such a bizarrely almost-familiar expression that Isa was a little taken aback. “We’ve got plenty to catch up on, huh?”

Isa chuckled dryly. “That we do.” They got walking, Isa leading them towards one of the small cafés in the city.

“I’ll join you both for a bit,” said Aqua as they went, “but I also promised Ven I would check the shops for an accessory he’s been looking for. It’s been a long time since I was here—I’d like to explore again, if that’s alright.”

“Much of the city is still a work in progress,” Isa said with a stiff smile, “but I suppose you’re the last person I need to caution about any rogue Heartless or unstable scaffolding.”

Terra laughed. “Yeah, Aqua’s the most capable person I think I’ve ever met.”

Isa’s steps stalled for a moment. 

“You are the most capable member of this Organization, Saïx.”

The phrase came back to Isa in the familiar, quiet baritone with which it was first spoken to him—and it had been spoken to him more than once. He realized why the sight of Terra beside Aqua—the way he would carefully touch the small of her back as they walked, the glimmer in Terra’s eyes as he looked at her—had made him feel so strange.

Did I only interest you because of his memories of her?

He supposed it made sense. Just as Terra ended up harboring some of Xemnas’s memories after the loss of the latter’s heart, so, too, must Xemnas have retained some of Terra’s. That part of him must have been drawn to the upright, quiet-voiced, blue-haired member of his ranks on sheer instinct alone. It would explain Xemnas’s favoritism, if he was seeking out some replacement for a connection his body remembered and missed, if he was trying to fill in the blanks of a blank life that was never meant to be filled. It didn’t matter if Saïx had been responsible for the development of Xemnas’s heart if it had been based on someone else to begin with. Perhaps that was what had happened over the last week—now that Terra’s memories were back with Terra, Xemnas must have realized there was nothing significant about Saïx after all. That he was just a placeholder for what he couldn’t have, what was never really his to begin with.

Isa couldn’t explain why the idea felt so sharp in his chest.

“Isa?” Terra’s voice came to him through the mess of his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Isa blinked. He didn’t realize he had spaced out again. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hectic week. Yes, I’m fine. The café is just around this corner.”

He avoided making eye contact until they got to the cafe, trying to quickly compartmentalize everything swirling through his skull. It doesn’t matter—why on earth would it matter? 

Of course, he knew the answer. All Isa—and Saïx—had ever really wanted, ever since he was small, was to be validated. Appreciated. Wanted. Xemnas, for all his lies and manipulation, had still managed to make Saïx feel as much, even if it was in a strange, twisted way. The notion that it had never been Saïx, but rather the concept of a person Saïx reminded him of, that Xemnas praised was a difficult pill he was trying to force himself to swallow. 

I shouldn’t care so much. I shouldn't care at all.

Isa cleared his throat, and insisted on paying for both Terra and Aqua. He’d been getting compensated for his work at the castle, at the very least. Aqua got a simple drink to go, and smiled at her two companions as they approached one of the small tables nearby. “It looks like the sun is going to set soon. I'm going to take a look around while there’s still some natural light.”

Holding a lightly sweetened drink of his own, Isa couldn’t help but worry that he had immediately seemed off-putting to Aqua. He forced himself to smile, crossing his legs. What’s gotten into me? “I still owe you a tour of Twilight Town, as well, I believe." Even though Lea, Roxas, and Xion would probably be able to offer a better one, considering what a recluse Isa himself tended to be. “I hope you enjoy the city.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Aqua said warmly, the twinkle in her eye assuaging Isa’s fears just a little. She gave a gentle touch to Terra’s jaw as he sat—the fondness between the two was palpable. “You two have fun. I’ll meet up with you again later.” 

“I’ll see you,” Terra replied, reciprocating the touch on her arm with a soft smile that was yet again eerily familiar. Aqua departed with a pat on Terra’s shoulder, and left the two alone. Terra turned to Isa. “So. What’s on your mind?”

Isa looked up from his cup. “Ah. Am I that obvious?” His mouth twitched into a slanted half-smile. “I hope I didn’t make Aqua feel out of place.”

Terra shook his head. “No way. We’ll all get together another time, but she and I both just figured you had some… particular stuff you wanted to talk to me about. You know, since it’s been a little bit since he woke up.”

Isa’s pale cheeks turned a shade more pink. “I didn’t mean—I hope you didn’t come here out of nothing but obligation.”

“Of course not. I’m glad you reached out.” Terra reclined a little, warming his hands on his mug. He had gotten tea again. “You’ve seen him a couple times by now, then, I’m guessing?”  

“I have. I wanted to ask the same of you.”

Terra shook his head. “I haven’t yet, no. It’s… a strange situation. But it does seem like his memories have gone back to him. I haven’t had any more dreams that aren’t mine, lately.”

That answered one of Isa’s questions, then. “Do you intend to see him, or is that a connection you would rather leave in the past?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Terra said with a sigh, his mouth slightly slanted. “I’ve gotta admit, it’s a little uncanny, seeing a guy with your own face. But maybe I’ll visit one of these days. See what it’s like. We were stuck with pieces of each other for so long, after all.” Terra stirred a spoonful of honey into his tea and took a sip. “What’s it been like for you, then?”

Hm. Isa took a sip of his own and scalded his tongue, frowning. “Well. This morning, his quarters were moved from the basement to the main castle. He seems to potentially still be in some state of recovery.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” said Terra thoughtfully. “Spending so long in a body without a heart… it must have been hard for all of you.”

Isa gave a weak laugh through his nose. “Well, you’re hardly a stranger to having to live incomplete.”

“True enough, I suppose.” There was a note of darkness to Terra’s voice as a small, sardonic smile stole across his lips. “All the more reason I sympathize.”

“That sympathy of yours is admirable. Not many would retain it after everything you’ve been through.” Isa looked off into the town, idly twirling his spoon around the rim of his mug.  

“You did. Didn’t you?” Terra leveled his cool, gentle gaze at Isa, meeting his eyes when Isa finally looked back at him. “Why else would you have done all the things you have for him?”

Isa ceased his stirring, his hands sliding down into his lap. “It’s hardly been that much,” he muttered. Though he supposed that would come across as decidedly untrue to any onlookers, given the fact that he was almost the sole person continually vouching for Xemnas’s personhood. 

“It’s been enough to notice,” Terra said, confirming Isa’s suspicions. “I mean, there’s some kind of bond between you, isn’t there?”

Isa was silent for a moment—perhaps a few too many moments—watching the fading ripples vanish on the surface of his drink. “...I don’t know.”

Terra cocked his head to the side, making him look very much like a big puppy dog. Xemnas used to tilt his head in a similar way sometimes, as well. “What do you mean? I thought we established that you were the connection his heart made. The one that helped it grow.”

The notion was still so hard to process. Maybe that was why Isa was coming up with so many reasons that couldn’t be the case. “I mean I don’t know.” He took a breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling. “I don’t know if it was me, or if it was the idea of me, or something else entirely.”

Terra furrowed his brow, looking confused. “I’m not gonna pretend like I know everything, but from what I saw and felt—it was you.”

“You and Aqua,” Isa said slowly after a beat of hesitation. “You have a special bond, don’t you? Doesn’t it make sense that he would have sought out something that reminded him of that?”

“You’re wondering if it was all because you’re a little like Aqua?” Terra asked, looking a bit quizzical. “I dunno. I can’t say anything for sure—I mean, maybe that was part of it. But you aren’t Aqua. You’re you. And you’re the one he spent all that time with.” He shifted his weight in his seat, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Did he ever give you a reason to think that, somewhere along the line?”

It was remarkable how very kind Terra was to a man he barely knew. His gentle voice was grounding, and Isa appreciated it, even though it still somewhat surprised him. He took another long sip of coffee. “In the past? Not as far as I know. When he first woke up, and when I first visited him again afterwards, I… it was surprisingly easy to talk to him. He spoke quite freely—warmly, even.” He paused, meeting his own reflection in his half-empty mug. “But this morning, when we took him to his new quarters… something was different. He would scarcely even look at me, let alone speak candidly. I expect something must have changed in his perception of me.” …I sound like a lunatic.

Terra, however, simply looked thoughtful. He folded his arms. “There’s gotta be a lot going through his head right now. Maybe that’s all it is—just him getting used to being a person.”

But he would look at Dilan and Aeleus and the only time he flinched was when I touched him. “I expect you’re right.”

“You don’t seem convinced.” Terra’s gaze was so clear, possessing a profound weariness and focus beyond his visible age. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Isa’s lips pursed together, his lower lip protruding slightly in a thoughtful pout as he stared down at the table. Of course there was more to it. Every one of his fears—the ones he insisted he found absurd, pointless, unnecessary—boiled down to one question. He chewed on his cheek for a moment before speaking. “...I’ve been wondering why it was me. Why I was... who I was to him.”

Terra’s eyebrows rose a little. “Does there need to be a reason?”

“I mean—” Isa’s attention snapped back up in surprise. “My rank was relatively low. I was adept, yes, but hardly more so than some of the others. I was plotting against him for years, and he knew. So why was it me?” He spoke too quickly, his heart beating too hard, and he felt ridiculous and—and embarrassed. Terra must think him such a fool.

His companion, meanwhile, let him finish, uncrossing his legs and keeping his relaxed, neutral posture across from Isa. He was quiet for a moment, tapping a finger against his arm. “I’m not an expert in this—not by a long shot. I can’t tell you anything and swear that it’s what you need to hear. You can tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m still wondering—does there need to be a reason?”  

Isa—ever doubtful, ever self-conscious, ever hyper-analytical—just blinked. He had always needed a reason for everything, from thinking to being. Sometimes he made them up when they weren’t there, for better or, more often, worse. “You think there wasn’t?”

“Like I said. I don’t know anything for sure,” Terra said with a small shake of his head. “But from what I’ve seen and what I’ve felt—sometimes there’s no sense to it. Sometimes our hearts just want what they want, and there doesn’t have to be any grand reason for it. That’s part of what makes a heart special.”

“...What an interesting thought.” Isa spoke haltingly, folding his hands in his lap. What a miracle. I’ve found a possibility that scares me more. Because if Xemnas had had no motive for it, then Isa didn’t, either. It simply was. And that was daunting. 

Terra surprised him again with a warm, soft smile. “You are like Aqua, though. Both of you overthink way too much.”

Isa couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching up to run a hand back through his hair. “So I’ve been told before.” He downed the last of his lukewarm brew in one swig. “But I expect she’s far less self-centered. I’ve barely asked a thing about you and how you’re doing. Forgive me.” Isa was still concerned with how Xemnas had seemed that morning, but didn’t want Terra to feel as though he was undergoing an interrogation. Besides, he had perhaps already had his fill of insights for the day. 

Terra affably waved him off. “Nothing to forgive. I’m always happy to help a friend.”

Isa found it remarkable, that Terra would consider him such. But he was grateful all the same. “I appreciate you coming here—talking to me. I’m afraid I’ve never had the best people skills, but… well. I’m glad to be able to call you a friend.” Even if the circumstances of their meeting and subsequent connection were nothing short of bizarre.

The corners of Terra’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Isa recognized what would one day be the small wrinkles Xemnas bore on his. “Any time.”

Isa attempted to make up for his earlier lack of consideration, going on to ask about the Land of Departure, about Ventus and Aqua, about their collective missions. The conversation flowed easefully as the sun gradually set beyond the horizon of the badlands, and did well to distract Isa from another of his forays into a thought spiral. It was only just as the first stars began to twinkle in the sky that Aqua came trotting back up to them, a few small bags on her arms. Winter was approaching, and it was rather chilly. Isa didn’t envy her her bare shoulders.

“Oh, good,” she said, bending over to plant a kiss on the crown of Terra’s head. “You’ve kept yourselves entertained.” 

Terra smiled up at her in the city lamplight. “Of course. How about you?”

“I found a few things,” she said, shrugging her bags. “Including that accessory for Ven.” She turned to Isa—she and Terra both had a unique warmth to their gazes that settled comfortably over him “We’ll have to stop by more often.”

Isa crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, returning Aqua’s smile. “Well, by now I certainly owe you both a tour of this world and Twilight Town, on top of drinks and dinner.”

Aqua chuckled as Terra rose and stretched. “I’m sure we’ll be happy to take you up on that one of these days.”

“Good. You’re always welcome to reach out.” Isa followed suit, tucking his chair in. Their cups had long been cleared away.

“You, too,” Terra said with an earnest nod. “Really. And let me know if anything happens.”

Isa gave him an ever-so-slightly sardonic smile. “I suppose we’ll see.” He couldn’t help but wonder how the next day would go—if Xemnas would still be so distant and detached, and how he would react to the plans the apprentices had laid out. And also how he would react to Isa himself again.

Isa bade and waved the pair goodbye, watching their gliders twinkle away into space before he started heading back towards the castle. It was only then that he let himself begin over-digesting what Terra had told him.

“Sometimes there’s no sense to it. Sometimes our hearts just want what they want.”

Could that truly be what had happened? What was happening? Isa still had his doubts. But the way his heart pulsed in his chest, the way his thoughts had been swirling, what and whom they had been swirling about—

What could I ever tell Lea?

Chapter Text

“You’re being pitiful again.” A deep voice, one that was a strange, metamorphosed reflection of his own, came to Xemnas through the dry air of the Keyblade Graveyard, carried on the chalky wind that stung his cheeks.

Xemnas sighed, looking out over the unfortunate wasteland as a familiar presence drew up beside him in a swish of silver hair and leather. Ansem had always kept his hair sleek and styled. Xemnas had never bothered. “So you, too, have persisted?”

A low chuckle, then, freer sounding than most of Xemnas’s own had ever been. He supposed such freedom came with being the heart—the part that could think and feel. “It seems so. Though I have little interest in finding myself in any situation akin to yours. I’m perfectly content as I am.”

Xemnas turned to face him, his own untidy strands of hair shifting in the wind. “As you are? And how is that, exactly?”

Ansem gestured around the two of them. “Here, housed snugly in this fresh little heart you’ve managed to nurture. Though I must say the scenery you’ve conjured is a surprise. I would have expected that old castle of yours. Don’t tell me you’re moping about that, too?”

Slow and catlike, Xemnas just blinked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “Moping?”

“Yes. Moping. As I said. You’re being pitiful again.” Ansem folded his arms, casting Xemnas a look out of the corner of a pair of eyes almost identical to Xemnas’s own. “I thought this was what you wanted. Getting to see all of them again. Getting to see him again.”

Ansem, of course, knew more about Xemnas than most. Though all of Xehanort’s fragments and offshoots bore an inextricable link, Xemnas and Ansem possessed a particular closeness of mind, a unique connection of feeling and will. They were two parts of a whole, the body and the heart, and though their personal development, if it could be called that, had diverged in their years apart, there had been an instantaneous understanding when they came together again in the Real Organization. Even if that generally manifested in little more than the sharing of knowing looks and matching bad moods.

Xemnas was silent for a moment, casting his gaze out over the wasteland again. 

"I don't see why this has manifested as a concern of yours."

"Because all these new feelings of yours still have a tendency to bleed over to me, even here and now," said Ansem, tapping a finger idly on his arm. "I thought perhaps I might finally be freed from secondhand dreams about your precious little moongazer, but you seem to have quite the one-track mind."

"He isn't mine," Xemnas corrected flatly. "He never was. Everything that occurred between us was nothing but a game."

"To you, or to him?" Ansem had turned to face Xemnas directly, now, eyebrows knowingly and haughtily raised. 

Xemnas didn't return his look. "To us both. That much was always clear."

"Until you fell for him hard enough to nearly drag the rest of us down with you."

Closing his eyes, Xemnas delivered an open-mouthed sigh. "What is it that you want, Ansem?"

"Nothing. I am satisfied with my tale. But you—what is it that you want?" Ansem's tone was gently mocking, but not ill-spirited—the kind that could only come from someone as deeply connected to Xemnas as he.

"...I do not know." Xemnas's answer hung in the air, simple and unsatisfactory and perhaps not wholly truthful. "To be able to want for no sake but my own… it is unfamiliar to me."

"Is it?" Ansem's expression remained impassive. "We all saw the blind eye you so often turned to that pretty pet of yours. And I know you cared about Xehanort and his plans as little as I did by the end of it all."

"It did begin to ring empty, didn't it?" Xemnas said, ignoring Ansem's first statement. "You and I both played our parts all the way to the end, but for what?” He paused, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly through his teeth. “Nothing. As we both always knew. So why did we continue past the point of no return?" Xemnas finally turned to him, head cocked slightly to the side as his doleful gaze settled on his Other.

"Our destiny was etched before we came to be, our wills inextricable from his. Heart and body, his most dutiful vessels by force of design." Ansem met his gaze evenly, then sighed as he looked beyond Xemnas and towards the dusty horizon. "And yet I cannot help but wonder if the independent spirits you and I both managed to form were ever part of that plan, too."

Philosophizing again. It was easy to go back and forth with Ansem about such things. Of course it was. 

"If so," Xemnas slowly replied, "I doubt he considered it to possess any great significance.”

Ansem chuckled. “Of course. He was always more concerned with grander designs. But you meander from the point yet again, Xemnas. As usual." He re-crossed his arms over his ridiculously-unbuttoned shirt. The gesture always made him look pompous. "Xehanort is gone. I only linger here by a thread. You, who were never meant to exist, are now the last piece that still truly does. What an amusing turn of events, hm?” He cast another lazy glance at Xemnas that came very close to being insufferable. “I can't help but wonder what you intend to do with this unfettered second round.”

Xemnas smirked, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "You speak as though I have all the choices in the world. As though I was the one who returned by any will of my own. I do not belong here, and I don't doubt that such a fact will be made well known with time."

"So?" Ansem arched a thin, silvery eyebrow. "Were you not the Superior of the In-Between? Surely your past power isn’t lost to you."

“An empty title. And with what intent would I make use of such power?” The look Xemnas gave to his Other was dull. “Undoubtedly I live on borrowed time. I would not be surprised if the extent of my usefulness has been stamped with an expiration date.” And he didn’t mind. He had no place in any realm of light nor waking.

Ansem scoffed. “That, I doubt. These proud little warriors of light always pride themselves on exhaustive mercy. Chances are you’ve found yourself stuck with them again. Your old companions.” The last word bore an especially heavy weight, and Xemnas could feel Ansem’s gaze crawling over his skin. “Just like you always wanted, Xemnas.”

It was true. Xemnas would have denied it until his last moments, but there had always been a part of him, hungry and gnawing and insatiable, that so badly desired companionship. Friends. Connection. He had postured to the rank and file beneath him, pretended at their closeness—or lack thereof. Called them friends in the same breath as he denied their hearts to them. Ignored most of them, yet clung to their loyalty, even when it came from nothing but fear and self-motivated obligation. And they had all fallen around him, twice, one by one, and he had always been too afraid to acknowledge the broken, shriveled heart he had buried deep in the pit of his chest. So he hadn’t. Not until it was far too late.

“Like I always wanted, hm?”

Ansem shifted his weight. Their shoulders were almost flush with one another, now. In the Real Organization, they often didn’t realize quite how close they were standing. An easy enough thing to do as two halves of a whole. “You were always the sentimental one. And yet you were also always the one who noticed it the least.” The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was remembering some joke that only he knew the punchline to. “Though I suppose we were all predisposed to our own flavors of stubbornness.” 

Again, he turned to look at Xemnas squarely, that inescapable haughty look lingering on his sharp features. “You were lonely. And now you are back with them. With him. You’ve found what you were seeking, after all this time. So go on. Take it.”

There was a pause. Xemnas met his gaze levelly, his own eyes bereft of fire. “...You are a nuisance.”

Ansem’s lips curled. “And you are one to talk. As usual.” 

Xemnas turned away, taking a few steps towards the edge of the pillar upon which they stood. He stared down past its broken precipice, the steep drop leading to nothing but dust and bits of broken, rusted metal. 

Don’t try to ruin things for him just to get what you want.

Xemnas was a stranger to selflessness. Even the idea of selfishness had long rung hollow, shallow, meaningless beyond any surface level because, he supposed, one ought to have a self before they could be either. And that was something Xemnas had long denied—to himself, and to others. But even so, he had always taken more than he had given. Even without any true sense of personhood, he had taken things for his sake and his alone, trying to fill the empty void he had long accepted. The Chamber of Repose with Aqua's rusted, brittle armor. The imposed companionship of his number. The company of Saïx himself, having him in his office and his room and his bed, pretending there could ever be anything more than nothing. 

And what Xemnas took had always belonged to someone else first, snatched up by him after it had fallen to the wayside in one way or another. Aqua's armor had been hers, and then it was lost, and he took it. His members had once had hearts and lives, and they were lost, and he took them, too. And Saïx—he had been Isa, and Isa had been Lea's, and Xemnas had taken Saïx when Axel had no longer been there for him. 

But now, each and every one of the things Xemnas had once had were restored to their rightful places, and he had nothing, because how could nothing itself have anything to call its own?

He heard a drawn out, gravelly sigh behind him. “Do you still forget how often the thoughts in your heart are shared with me?” Ansem’s voice finally broke its glossy veneer, sounding just a little more tired than usual. “Do not tell me that this is all I have to look forward to.”

“And still you mock me.”

“Only if that is the way in which you choose to see it.” Ansem’s mildly patronizing gaze felt cool on Xemnas’s flesh. “Do you not deserve the happiness you were so long denied?”

“No,” Xemnas said flatly. “In what world would I?”

Ansem came over and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around with a firm, gloved hand. They were facing each other now, the high points of Ansem’s face inches away from Xemnas’s own. “Perhaps you don’t. But does that mean you will deny it if it offers itself regardless?”

“There is no happiness of mine that would come at a worthy cost,” Xemnas muttered back, looking away. He couldn’t let himself dwell on any such costs or possibilities.

All Ansem did was drop his heavy hand away from Xemnas’s shoulder, his know-it-all look still evident on his face. "Go on, then, Nobody. Mope to your heart's content. You have one, now, so go ahead and use it for nothing but dwelling on the past, on what was and what was not. Waste away with no ambition. Either wallow in your feelings for him—not unrequited, I might add, since I doubt you will ever let yourself notice—or forget them."

Xemnas's mouth opened, and then closed again, a muscle flexing at his jaw. Anger and bitterness were not lost to him. They were all he had possessed a memory of knowing for so long, after all. So when it bubbled up beneath his skin, at Ansem’s words, the frustration and exhaustion of it all, Xemnas recognized it easily, and he turned with it evident in the burning embers of his eyes. “Enough. You know as well as I that I did not ask for this.”

“And yet you have it, all the same.” Ansem was unphased. “So use it.”

“I…” Xemnas began haltingly, letting his bristled shoulders slump. His attention drifted away from Ansem, back out to the barren world. He thought he might have heard a distant sound on the horizon, but he made little of it. “All I can do is try to right things. Do as they ask of me, this time.”

“Fine. I suppose we will both see how this new adventure of yours will go, then.” Ansem’s posture relaxed, his hands hanging at his sides. “But you have a choice, now. A say in how it all unfolds. See to it that you reap what benefits of personhood you can.”

Xemnas smirked wearily. What strange optimism, Ansem.  “So that you may share in them?”

“Who knows?” Ansem replied, returning the expression in kind. “But we have spoken overlong. You had better hurry and wake up—lest you scare him off for good, this time.”

Xemnas’s brow knit in mild confusion, and Ansem simply pointed to his own ear. The far-off noise Xemnas had heard grew louder, and when he went to reply, he found that no sound came from his mouth. His surroundings swam and faded, and suddenly Ansem and his smirk were gone. 

Xemnas woke in the new bed in his new room, groggy and unsure how much of their conversation had been nothing but a weary-minded dream. 

Did I conjure you, or did you truly find your way into my heart?

Dimly, he realized the sound he had heard was a quiet knocking at his door. A sound he recognized. His eyes fluttered open, and he found that the headache that had plagued him on and off for the last week had returned. He saw sunlight streaming in through the window and onto the desk, dust motes shifting through the beam, and felt disconcerted. He wasn’t certain he had ever woken up to sunlight before.

“A moment.” Pushing himself upright with a quiet groan, he grabbed the clothing he had briefly worn the day before, dressing as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Come in,” he said, just loud enough, he hoped, to hear. He was thrown off from his conversation with Ansem, even if it had been nothing but a dream, and he felt something like apprehension curl in his gut.

The handle of the door slowly turned, the heavy wood and the brass hinges creaking as the door opened. This room must have been in disuse for some time, from the sound of it. As the crack widened, the smells of bacon and syrup preceded the sight of a shock of blue hair by only a split second, and Xemnas’s new heart clenched.

“I’ve brought you breakfast,” Isa said, standing upright and austere as always, and he closed the door behind him. He moved the same as he did on the countless occasions where Saïx had similarly slipped into Xemnas’s office, and something Xemnas didn’t immediately recognize—nostalgia?—twinged inside him. This time, however, rather than folders and papers, Isa held a tray in hand, similar to the ones the apprentices had brought Xemnas back in the cell. “May I?” Isa added, gesturing towards the desk with the tray.

Xemnas’s stomach growled at the sight of a generous portion of breakfast foods—pancakes and bacon and fruit. His appetite over the last week could be described as spotty, at best, and perhaps it was finally catching up to him. “Of course.” Xemnas stepped aside, letting Isa make his way across the room to set down the tray. There were two cups of tea, Xemnas noticed—one with lemon, as Xemnas himself had always liked it. 

Isa turned back to him. He was dressed in the same matching jacket and pants as Xemnas had seen him in before, but his hair was tied back into a high ponytail, leaving his usual two long strands framing either side of his face. Xigbar used to say they made Saïx look like a lop-eared rabbit. The notion, back then, had made Xemnas chuckle out of some remembrance of humor. I wonder where Xigbar is, now, too. 

“How did you sleep?” Isa asked, his gaze measured and clear. Xemnas was so used to those eyes being gold, but found he didn’t necessarily miss the old color. Regardless of hue, they still possessed that focused, almost bestial brightness that Xemnas had long found so striking. 

Xemnas’s mouth twitched at the corners. “This bed was, indeed, more comfortable than the one below.” He wasn’t exactly sure how to quantify good versus bad sleep anymore, but at least the sheets and mattress had been softer.

“A rather low bar,” Isa deadpanned. “Hopefully you’ve found yourself better rested. Now go on. Eat.” He gestured towards the tray on the desk with a jerk of his head. He also seemed to be keeping a slightly greater distance between himself and Xemnas than the times he had visited before.

Xemnas kept his eyes on Isa as he took the seat at the desk, glancing between him and the tray. Isa hadn’t moved. “...Are you intending to stay?”

“Do you mind if I do?” Isa’s face bore a look Xemnas recognized; level, calculating, that clever inensity present in his eyes as he tried to determine Xemnas’s probable response. Saïx had always loved answering questions with questions of his own. 

It was strange—here and now, they felt at once like strangers, and yet also like those long acquaintances who knew one another more deeply, more intimately than anyone else. So much of what they had had together in the old days, if it could be called anything, was founded on lies and false pretense. Xemnas had never deluded himself otherwise, and he doubted Isa did, either. And yet, towards the end, he had been unable to deny that there had been something surging beneath it all; a mutual desire for touch, contact, for connection where there could be none, where such things had to ring utterly false for the sake of the plan.

At least Xemnas thought so.

He shook his head. “I do not.” 

“Good,” said Isa, a small smile quirking at his mouth. “I didn’t have time to take my tea this morning.” He came over, slow and a little cautious, and plucked the other cup of tea up off the tray, his acuminous eyes settling over Xemnas like a coursing wave from the very sea they so resembled. Fitting, Xemnas supposed—a part of him had always been drawn to the ocean, and he had sometimes spent hours watching the waves in the Realm of Darkness. 

Isa, tea in hand, went over to lean against the bookshelf while Xemnas gingerly ate. “...Do you feel like stretching your legs?” he asked at length, crossing his ankles. 

Xemnas could feel those eyes on him, even though he refrained from meeting them himself. Feel. He finished chewing and swallowing a bite of pancake before finally looking to Isa, head cocked slightly. “Hm?”

“You’re free to roam the castle, now,” Isa explained. Xemnas remembered Aeleus saying something along those lines, too. “You’ve spent a fair amount of time in a box. I thought you might like to talk about things with a change of scenery.” Isa’s words seemed carefully measured, like he was still testing the waters around Xemnas. He would find that they were currently quite placid, for all their depth.

Talk about things? Xemnas’s brow knit slightly. “The plans the apprentices have in motion, no?” He assumed there must be some.

Isa nodded. “Yes. And anything else that may come up.”

Xemnas wondered what he meant by that. “...Will they be joining us?”

“We ought to stop and see Even, but for the most part they have their own business to attend to today,” Isa said, setting his empty teacup back down on the tray. He glanced at Xemnas out of the corner of his eye. “Getting you filled in is mine.”

So it would be just the two of them, then. What are you seeking amidst all this, Isa? Xemnas wondered, blinking slowly at him. He sipped his own tea, heavily sweetened and tart from the lemon. A familiar, comforting flavor, he found. “And is this business of your own volition?”

“It is.” Isa stood a little closer, now, enough that Xemnas could smell the cologne he wore. Cool and clean; pine, perhaps. “We can go when you are ready. Unless you wish to stay here?” His tone was the slightest bit jittery, Xemnas thought, but perhaps he was imagining it.

“...If I am to reside here, then I suppose I should reacquaint myself with these halls.” Many of Xehanort’s memories of this place had blurred, but Xemnas had come here from time to time over the years of the Organization. He supposed it had probably changed a fair deal even since then.

Isa smirked. “Glad to see we’re on the same page.”

Are we? Xemnas wasn’t certain of that. But perhaps that was what Isa intended to clear up today. At least in part.

While Xemnas finished his breakfast, or what he could manage of it, Isa thoughtfully looked over the bookshelf. “I hope these volumes are interesting enough,” he said, tapping the spine of one of them. “The library saw some damage over the years of disuse, but I brought what I could here.” There were a good deal of historical works, some scientific studies, and a handful of novels. Things Xemnas had populated his shelves with back in the World That Never Was. Isa remembered—of course he did. He had spent countless hours in Xemnas’s room and office for one reason or another, after all.

Xemnas managed an awkward smile. “I don’t doubt that they will be perfectly ample.” He paused for a moment, mulling over thoughts and words, so very many things he wanted to say and ask. “...Thank you.”

There was a subtle twitch at that pouty mouth. “You’re welcome.”

Xemnas averted his own gaze again. It was too easy to stare. He had had no qualms about staring, once—Saïx had noticed, and hadn’t hesitated to press the advantage. Something Xemnas had never minded, considering he had plenty of advantages of his own. It had been a constant back-and-forth between them, everything and nothing all at once. Something to be accepted, to allow to inconsequentially play out, because it had never been meant to matter. What a fool he had been.

He carefully replaced his utensils back on the tray, every move he made slow and cautious as though any sudden motion might cause something in him to break. “...We may go.”

“Let’s, then.” Isa gathered up the tray, nodding towards the door. “We can drop this at the kitchen on the way to the lab. There are a few things to discuss there.”

Xemnas remembered the laboratory well enough. He himself had gone there plenty of times on the way to the Chamber of Repose. “Very well.” He got up and followed Isa silently out the door, down the staircase, and into the hall.

“You know,” said Isa as they walked, as Xemnas kept his head low and trailed a few feet behind him, “I expected far more questions from you.”

Xemnas gave a low chuckle. “Even said the same thing.” Among other things.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I did not expect any answers, should I ask.”

There was a slight turn of Isa’s head towards him. “Well, how fortunate for you that I’m marginally less fussy than he. Ask away.”

“I feel that I ought to wait at least until you have informed me of the happenings I am to be involved with before I saddle you with too much inquiry,” Xemnas replied as they walked. There were plenty of other things Xemnas wanted to ask. That didn’t mean he was ready to ask them. 

“Fair enough,” Isa said, chuckling slightly through his nose. 

Xemnas eventually followed him around a corner into a kitchen area that he recalled from long ago. There were a few castle staff members bustling about who glanced their way, some with looks of confusion or intrigue when they saw Isa’s current extra shadow. Xemnas wondered if he was recognizable to others here, as well.

Isa set the tray alongside the other dirty dishes in a big sink before finally turning back to Xemnas. “Do you still remember this castle?” he asked, his attention settling heavily on Xemnas again as he led them out of the kitchen. “Where everything is?”

Xemnas hummed quietly, looking down the hall. “In a way, I do, yes,” he murmured. “Dim memories of walking through these halls in the days before. But they are… far off. Like I am seeing someone else’s.” 

Isa made a thoughtful sound. “Hm. Xehanort, when he was an apprentice here… his body and memories became yours. But then you grew a heart of your own. You two are no longer one and the same, but some of his memories stuck with you because they had nowhere else to go. Does that sound right?”

Xemnas wasn’t certain. The body he had the audacity to call his own was twice-removed, stolen from Terra and cast off by Xehanort. The scattered memories from which Xemnas’s nonexistence began had sprouted from a body that was never meant to be his, and he had never known who he was beyond his role, not really. He had never tried to find out, because what reason was there for doing so? He had a part to play, and the extra effort would have done nothing but make the end of it all worse. He was the Superior of the In-Between, the Lord of All Naught, and that was all. There had been no room for humanity in his life. So he had long thought.

In all those years, he had never bothered to question a thing. He had harbored nothing but bitterness and anger and emptiness in his hollow being, and yet never lifted a finger to tug his own string of fate in any other direction. He had been born an empty shell, desperate, deep down, to find something of his own and doomed, resigned never to have it. He was a man of fragments, of bits and pieces, of so many broken husks of thoughts and memories that weren't his that he was never certain where he, himself, began—if there was any him at all.

“...I suppose so.”

“We know now that Sora and Roxas are separate entities, with their own hearts and thoughts and memories. Even Xion has become nothing but herself,” Isa went on, sounding almost as though he was talking to himself. “It seems the same has happened for you and Xehanort.”

Logically, the pieces lined up. But identity could be a tricky thing to come to grips with when it had been denied to oneself for so long. “An unexpected outcome, to be sure.” 

Isa opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. They paused outside the door Xemnas recognized as that of Ansem’s study, which he recalled led to the lab beyond. Before opening the door, Isa turned back to Xemnas, his arms folding across his chest. Whereas Ansem looked pompous and confident when he did so, Isa looked defensive, guarded. Xemnas didn’t blame him. 

“You were brought back on purpose. With purpose,” Isa said. "But your will is now your own. If I asked you what you wanted to do with it, would you give me an answer?”

Xemnas blinked. Ansem, what Xemnas supposed had only been mere hours earlier, had asked something so very similar. And yet Isa asked it now as a question nested within another. How many of those had Saïx asked him over the years? Xemnas had so often answered in vague riddles, or not answered at all—not with the truth, at least. He had ruined so many years of Saïx’s life with those lies of his. He couldn’t understand why Isa so much as even looked at him, now. “I would, if I had one for you.”

“Does that mean you don’t?” It was clear from Isa’s gaze that he was trying to read his old Superior, and Xemnas wondered whether or not he found himself successful. Even had mentioned before that Xemnas was no longer as good at hiding his thoughts as he was as a Nobody.

Xemnas shook his head. “I… do not yet know what I can do. What choices will be afforded to me.”

“That isn’t what I asked.” There were those brilliant eyes again, clear and keen and knowing as they bored into him. Xemnas was surprised enough that he met them head-on, feeling like his soul was being stripped bare. “I asked what it is you want.”

Isa’s remark left Xemnas in heavy, ponderous silence. What do I want? Ansem had asked him, too. It was a difficult question to let himself answer.

I want to make things up to the others. To right the wrongs I dealt.

I want them to regard me as a friend, as a true companion. No longer a foe. No longer a threat.

I want… another chance with you. To be by your side. To touch you again. To truly be close to you, this time, without the wall of lies I built between us.

Xemnas closed his eyes, and then he replied.

“...I am afraid I do not yet have an answer for you.” 

Isa blinked slowly at him, the fine features of his face impassive. One of his fingers lightly tapped his arm, and he looked like he was thinking. “It will come, in time,” he said quietly, glancing downward at the tile. “You have a heart, now, but it may take longer than you expect for it to figure out what it wants.” 

“Oh?” Xemnas managed a small, crooked smile. He looked at Isa, and he did know what his heart wanted, at least in part. It was just that most of it was unlikely, and the rest impossible to attain. “And how long did it take for you?”

Isa sighed and unfolded his arms, a slight frown tugging at his scar. “Well. I suppose I’m also still a work in progress.” 

His plainness surprised Xemnas. Saïx had always been so certain, so driven, so self-possessed in the pursuits of his desires. Xemnas thought he would be still—or, by now, would perhaps already have most of what he wanted. But you have a real home now. One you chose, he almost wanted to say. You have Lea. 

At length, he spoke, a furrow in his brow as he struggled to meet Isa’s eyes. “You had your wishes denied to you for far too long. Far longer than you ever deserved. And for that, I am… I am sorry.”

“Do you want me to forgive you, then?” Isa’s reply was immediate, its suddenness catching Xemnas off guard. He blinked in the face of that sharp, focused stare—cowed by it, almost. Having a heart made even the smallest of things feel so different. So much more.

“I—” Xemnas hesitated. He supposed he did want that. Of course he did. Yet to ask for such a thing outright—how could he? After everything he was, everything he did? To Saïx especially, whom he had held closer to him than any other—whom he had thus lied to more than any other. “...That is a request I have no place making.”

He watched Isa’s frown curl into a lopsided smirk. “Even still, you evade my questions. And here I was, worried you might really have changed beyond recognition.”

Xemnas had no idea what to make of that. “Isa…”

“Don’t worry. It was answer enough.” That strange smile remained as Isa opened the door to the old study, ushering Xemnas through. The room was currently empty, but looked renovated. The panel to the lab was open and, from the looks of it, had been for some time. It no longer needed to be hidden. 

“Was it?” Xemnas looked over his shoulder, back to Isa, with a pinched note to his voice. Perhaps he only seeks to humiliate me. Strike down such an unfounded desire. I would not blame him.

“Yes. And I can’t give you an answer of my own just yet, either.” Isa walked thoughtfully towards the desk before returning his cool gaze to Xemnas. “What you did. Some might say it was unforgivable.”

Xemnas deflated slightly, casting his line of sight back to the ground. He had nothing he could say to that.

Isa took a few steps towards him. Xemnas watched his boots move closer across the floor. “Parts of it, maybe. But I don’t believe you are beyond goodness now.” Isa’s low voice, Xemnas was startled to hear, had begun to carry the slightest tremor, and the sound of it pulled Xemnas’s eyes back upward. Isa stood right before him, and all Xemnas could do was look. 

There were the messy strands of hair framing his pale face, that fateful silver sigil criss-crossing between his sea-green eyes. The delicate pout of his pink lips, the small frown lines on either side of his mouth. The lines of his body, the curves Xemnas knew so intimately. The body Xemnas had known was meant to be nothing more than an empty vessel for another, but had been unable to resist any time it was offered to him. Here was Isa, clever and complete, a man who had every reason to want Xemnas’s head on a platter—yet had brought him filled bookshelves and tea with lemon instead. All Xemnas could do was look at him, pupils wide, words failing yet again on his tongue.

“I knew you better than the others did,” Isa said, taking a slow breath as if to steel himself. “Because you let me. You let me become special to you. The rest of them… they don’t know you like I do.”

“And do you know me, Isa?” Xemnas finally said, his deep baritone laced with a brittle bitterness. “How do you know that I’ve spoken a truthful word since I awoke? That I am any different now from the man you knew, the Nobody who lied to and used you?” 

“Perhaps I don’t,” Isa replied in his low, steady tone, staring squarely at Xemnas. “But… I’ve chosen to believe in you.”

Slowly, tentatively, as though he were moving through water, Isa outstretched his hand, and Xemnas simply watched it come towards him with a trepidation he couldn’t explain. Isa’s gaze was curiously focused as he moved aside a few strands of silver hair, delicately touching Xemnas’s cheek with the pads of his fingers before cupping it with his palm. This time, Xemnas didn’t flinch—he simply stood there, frozen, breath hitched as his poor newborn heart pounded in his chest. 

It had been so long since he was touched with any such intimacy. It hurt, how badly he wanted to be caressed, to hold and be held, to be treated like a creature worthy of any real, true affection. It ached worse than he knew it was possible to ache, and he couldn’t help but miserably wonder if Isa had any idea of how deep that desire ran. 

“It also helps that you’re far more of an open book, these days,” Isa said, a faraway look on his face that Xemnas, for all his years of reading people, could not parse. Then, all too soon, his hand fell away, and Xemnas had to fight the instinct to chase it with his own. 

“Something I am beginning to wonder may be a negative,” Xemnas murmured, his eyes half-closed as he peered at the tile on the floor. His chest felt tight and sickly hollow all at once—though a different hollowness than the one he had lived most of his life knowing. This hollowness was one that wanted to be full to bursting, that could be filled with relative ease were it not for who he was, who he had been. It left a desire to be wanted, to belong—to a place, to people, to a person that he couldn’t have. All his chest could do was constrict around it.

Isa just shook his head. “It isn’t. An open book is a lot easier to trust than one that’s locked shut.”

“I may not yet be forgiven, but I am trusted,” Xemnas mused, looking down at his hands. He had kept them very well-manicured, once. That, alongside plenty of other things, had fallen to the wayside in the Real Organization. “By you, at least. I… Thank you, Isa.” He glanced upward, trying to keep his expression neutral and even.

“Don’t thank me,” Isa said, pretty lips stern. “Just prove me right. Help us here with that mind of yours.”

Xemnas nodded. The touch of Isa’s hand still burned so strongly on his cheek that some part of him wondered if it had managed to leave a mark. 

Isa believed in him. Xemnas still couldn’t fully understand why. He could be of use, yes, but surely he was not needed. Not anymore. And yet Isa still tried.

Despite himself, Ansem’s words returned to him again as he looked at the man before him. ‘Not unrequited, I might add, since I doubt you will ever let yourself notice.’ 

What an absurd notion. But hope was a hungry little thing, latching onto anything it could find. There was Lea, and yet—and yet Isa still came to Xemnas, still vouched for him, was the one who willingly took on the task of dealing with him, of speaking with him. Xemnas wanted so desperately to know why, but could not bring himself to ask. I have asked enough of you, he told himself, but if he was being truthful, he was nothing but afraid. Afraid of rejection. Of diminution. Things he had encountered rarely in his years as Superior, but had grown to know while in the Real Organization. Stripped of his title, of any respect beyond the faux and mocking, demoted to nothing but the Nobody, just another spare piece on the board. Barely more than a ghost. Even Saïx had barely spoken to him then.

Xemnas swallowed, taking a long, slow breath, trying to still his racing mind. I have never been suited for existence.

“...I will do everything I can.”

Chapter Text

As they entered the lab, Xemnas followed Isa in a reversal of their once all-too-frequent positions—a subdued, dutiful shadow at his heel, shoulders slouched and gaze averted to the ground. He seemed, Isa thought, to be all over the place; hot and cold, halting and hesitant, uncertain in a way Isa had never known him to be before. And yet Isa could not blame him. As they made their way through the castle, as they spoke, it was all easy enough for Isa to see that he walked alongside a shell of a man, one who had long been kept deliberately hollow, and one who was now struggling with what it meant to have a cold, meaningless existence shift suddenly and drastically. Something Isa understood.

He glanced at Xemnas out of the corner of his eye. The touch he had offered him only moments before had been a sudden impulse, one that some insatiable curiosity of his own had allowed to play out. A test, he could say, after the strange encounter the day prior. When Isa had held his cheek, the look on Xemnas’s face, in those whiskey-amber eyes, had been so very clear, so… earnest. A word Isa never would have expected to use in conjunction with his once-Superior. And yet it wasn’t the look itself that had startled Isa most; it had been the relief he felt when he saw it, and the single thought, unbidden in its entirety, that had passed through his mind:

So I am still that important to you.

Isa, despite the ever-nagging voice of reason and logic that he stoically insisted on subscribing to, found himself contented far more than he should have been by that revelation, to the point that it made him uneasy.

He swallowed when they stepped into the lab, then cleared his throat. “Hello, Even,” he greeted the scientist, who was hunched over a computer screen looking at what appeared to be a model of the castle.

“Ah, Isa. There you are. Oh, and you’ve brought him along. Good.” Even straightened, peering down his nose at the pair. He still possessed an air of rather aloof arrogance, but Isa was well aware now that the scientist’s heart was really quite soft. They had plotted their atonement together, after all―and behind Xemnas’s back, no less. 

Not that their former Superior particularly seemed to mind.

Even came over, giving Xemnas a look up and down. “Hm. You’ve lost a lot of weight.” He narrowed his eyes as he inspected Xemnas’s sunken face, then made a dismissive hand gesture as he headed back towards his computer. “Many of us underwent some physical distress after recompleting. You’ll be fine. So, what has Isa told you so far?”

Xemnas blinked slowly, his weary gaze dragging between Isa and Even. “...That there is work to be done.”

Even huffed, evidently unimpressed with Xemnas’s answer. “Always so vague.” He turned. “Isa?”

Isa’s mouth twitched. “Well, said vagueness may be because I myself haven’t gone into many specifics yet. I thought perhaps we ought to visit you first. I expect you know more of the finer details than I.”

“I see.” Even tapped a finger against the side of the monitor. “Well. The truth is that we have found ourselves shorthanded, with very much to attend to.”

Xemnas brought a hand absently over his chest. “Shorthanded enough to seek out even mine.”

“Yes, exactly.” Even’s presence remained stern and calculating, his green eyes severe. “There are a host of projects that need seeing to. A thousand things left to atone for in this world alone, not to mention how many others. So yes, we are at the point of using any hands we can, no matter how dirty.”  

“Our own included,” Isa added quietly. 

Even cast him a glance before returning his gaze to Xemnas. “We here in the castle are intimately familiar with the mistakes that litter our pasts. Following you was one of them. However… I would very much like to believe that returning you to existence was not. We are willing to allow you to prove as much by having you assist with our current primary pursuits.” 

Isa watched Xemnas nod, his loose strands of hair shifting around his face. “What would you have me do?” he said, monotone and soft-spoken.

“That remains to be seen. There are certainly plenty of possibilities.” Even gestured to the computer screen. “This castle and the town are still heavily damaged. Repairs are progressing, but have lagged behind, courtesy of this world’s Heartless population surging on the outskirts. Our manpower is limited, and protection of the city takes priority over reparation.”

“We will also be short a Keyblade wielder,” Isa went on, himself. “Which makes it more difficult to keep the Heartless under control.” He explained as best he could the plan they had in mind with Kairi for the parsing of her heart and memories in search of Sora. To his surprise, Xemnas appeared genuinely shocked at Sora's disappearance, and even visibly remorseful. 

“Ienzo, Ansem, and I will also be dedicating a fair amount of energy to this endeavor with Kairi.” Even folded his hands primly behind his back. “And, as much as I would like to insist on my own extended capacity, we have only so many waking hours in a day. You see what we are contending with. I would like to avoid feeling like we are simply treading water.”

Xemnas appeared to be mulling it all over in his head, lines of thought etching at the inner corners of his eyes. “I do see,” he said at length. His eyes flickered briefly to Isa. “My place here is far from earned. But… I am willing to try to earn it. To try and… aid you, who were once my companions.” 

Isa met Xemnas’s gaze for that split second before it returned to Even, and he couldn’t help the surge of gratification that pulsed in his chest.

Had Saïx wondered what Xemnas might be like once he had a heart? Back before, amidst all the schemes and the lies, when Saïx would curl up in his master’s lap to better hold a knife poised behind the man’s back—a knife that had been allowed to hang there, just as his fangs had been allowed to skirt along the artery of the Superior’s throat—had Saïx wondered what things might be like if Xemnas could feel?

During those last few months of the original Organization, when he had felt lost and abandoned and desperate for something, anything—when he had started spending more time in Xemnas’s room than his own because it made everything easier, easier to be distracted and thoughtless and empty—had Saïx wondered if he might ever find a heartbeat beneath his ear when it invariably ended up pressed to the Lord of All Naught’s chest? While Saïx plotted again in the Real Organization, this time for some new hope of making things right—had he wondered if Xemnas, too, ever felt in the face of his own lies? If he could ever come to desire any atonement of his own?

Isa wasn’t sure if he had an honest answer, nor was he sure how much it mattered now. All the same, he felt something stir in his chest at Xemnas’s assertion. Perhaps it comforted him, the idea of Xemnas earning a second chance, because it would lessen the guilt at having been offered one of his own. Or perhaps he had truly wondered what his distant, stilted Superior would grow into with a complete heart to guide him. He supposed spending so much time in a man’s bed could only lead to some kind of strange fascination, regardless of intent.

“Well, that’s something.” Even briskly rapped his knuckles against the countertop before heading towards one of the shelves. “I expect you have been already informed ad nauseam of the thinness of the ice upon which you stand, but I will reaffirm that you are no longer our Superior. Your involvement will be solely at the discretion of the residents of this castle and the Restoration Committee, and theirs is the authority to which you will answer. Is this clear?” 

Isa watched Xemnas closely, looking for any sign of burgeoning anger or frustration, but saw only calm resignation on the former Superior’s features. “It is clear.”

“Good.” Even returned his attention to the computer, expanding the view of the castle model to show the layout of the sprawling city below. “As we are the ones responsible for much of its damage, one of our central aims is ensuring the safety and restoration of Radiant Garden. You can see here what remains to be attended to.” The monitor showed the castle, still undergoing its own construction, as well as the destroyed burroughs on the outskirts and the haphazardly-repaired outer walls. 

“I was thinking,” Isa began, arms crossed as he leaned against the railing. “Our old world. Our castle. You were the one who oversaw most of its development, Xemnas.”

Xemnas shifted to look towards him, offering a slight nod. “...Indeed.”  

Over the years of the Organization, the Castle That Never Was had grown, expanded, been damaged and repaired—and, as far as Isa knew, Xemnas himself was responsible for most of it. Saïx, on occasion, wondered if it was perhaps the closest thing Xemnas had to a hobby; manufacturing sprawling corridors that led to secret rooms, adding ornamental turrets to the outer wings, sculpting sterile white sculpture into thqe walls. Even going so far as to craft a complex dragon construct, apparently.

“I thought perhaps you might be able to assist with plans for updated architecture.” An innocuous enough task, one that would require little emotional complexity. Isa wondered if it may even sound appealing to Xemnas. 

Xemnas seemed somewhat surprised, but a thoughtful expression passed over his face. “Ah. That is something I could lend myself to.”

“Hm. At the very least, it may be a starting point,” Even mused, fingers curling around his chin. “Come, then. Let’s hear your thoughts.” He jutted his chin towards the screen, gesturing for Xemnas to come and look. His eyes flitted curiously to Isa as Xemnas approached the display. Isa hadn’t mentioned the idea before this.

A low hum came from Xemnas as he bent slightly at the waist, dipping his head to examine the details of the model. With a glance to Even, he rotated the image, taking stock of what they were working with. The bits of jagged piping that still jutted from the castle and its base were visible, along with the oddly twining city streets that avoided particularly devastated chunks of infrastructure. There were still sections of the outer wall that were held up solely by scaffolding.

“...I see.” Xemnas’s orange eyes seemed to recover a hint of their old shine as the gears in his brain appeared to work. “This path here… have you considered diverting it eastward? It would grant greater ease of access to the south wall. Materials and manpower could be moved more smoothly.”

It had been a long time since Isa had heard that tone of voice. Though its old unwavering confidence was audibly lessened, the low, smooth sound of it was one Saïx had listened to often when he discussed plans and strategies and quotas with his once-Superior. There was an almost meditative quality to it, Xemnas musing over each thought and idea conscientiously and with more patience than Saïx or Isa himself had ever possessed.  

Even peered over his shoulder. “...Hm. That is certainly something to consider. What else?”

Isa waited and listened as Xemnas took stock of what had been repaired, what needed repairs, what could be streamlined, what could be reinforced. A crease of concentration had appeared at Xemnas’s brow, and his eyes had taken on a greater look of focus, thick silver hair falling over his shoulders. Isa found himself staring attentively not at the display the other two were going over, but at Xemnas himself, as if looking at him long enough would lay out the possibilities for Isa’s future just as easily as Xemnas was laying out those for the castle’s enhancements. 

Even had been scratching down notes with a pen and paper, and only after discussing options with Xemnas for longer than Isa had anticipated did he set the notebook down. “I will bring these ideas to Ansem,” he said, placing a hand over the cover. “But I see merit thus far. Perhaps you aren’t so utterly lost a cause, after all.”

The corner of Isa’s mouth eased upward, and Xemnas straightened, moving a few untidy locks of hair from his face. “I suppose we will see,” he murmured, sounding like his thoughts had drifted far away. 

You’re such a strange creature, Isa thought, meeting Xemnas’s eyes. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. Drawn to him. Distracted by him. 

Isa cleared his throat, returning his attention to Even. “Where do we go from here?”

“You?” Even cocked an eyebrow. “You can continue as you have been. You are always welcome here when you wish to aid us, but we are aware of your ties in Twilight Town. If you need to resume spending more time there, we will understand. As for Xemnas…” He turned to face the other man, who had taken a few steps away from the computer in Isa’s general direction. “It may be prudent to have you come here to the lab daily. We can see to any tasks at hand that way.” 

“Understood.” Xemnas gave a slight bow of his head, and Isa noticed his gaze had wandered dimly away to the ground again, his tone having shifted back into one of resignation. All over the place, he couldn’t help but think once more as he tried to read Xemnas’s features. They were largely obscured by his sheet of hair.

Even nodded briskly, returning to type at the keyboard. “You two may go. Take care, Isa.”  

“Thank you, Even.” Isa uncrossed his arms, pushing himself up from the railing.

Xemnas paused for a moment, waiting for Isa to move towards the door before doing so himself. His hand rose to linger on the frame. “I appreciate… your willingness to accept my aid. I hope some good will come of it.”

“Oh, yes, we all do, but we’ll just have to wait and see. Now, go on. I must attend to my other business.” Even waved them off, returning to whatever project he had been engrossed in at the computer, but Isa caught him glancing intently back over the notebook right as they left.

Once they were back in Ansem’s office, Isa exhaled, looking to Xemnas. “Well done.”

Xemnas chuckled, a rather dry sound from deep in his throat. “Do you think so?”

“Yes. Even listened. And from how it sounded, he was on board with most of your ideas.” Even would only entertain notions if they promised to offer some chance at success, after all.

“Perhaps something I have to offer may finally pay off.” Xemnas looked around the room, seeming to more fully take in the diagrams on the walls, the bookshelves, and the science equipment, a pensive look entering his weary eyes. 

Isa found Xemnas’s state of memory intriguing. It had been preached to them that the memories of their human lives were all that the Organization’s members had to make them special, and yet Xemnas’s own appeared to be fragmented and disjointed. Isa wondered what he had retained from both Master Xehanort and Terra, and if Xehanort’s memories as an amnesiac apprentice were something separate all of their own, too. Isa had not known him well back then—it wasn’t until the later years of the Organization that he and Xemnas had, for lack of a better term, grown close. His only vivid memory of him before Nobodyhood was of the man’s Keyblade crushing his heart out of his chest. Was that you, or was that him, or was it you both? Does it matter?

“I think it will. As long as you want it to.” Isa crossed his arms, looking at the spot where Xehanort’s picture had once hung on the wall. “And it seems like you do.”

Xemnas gave a quiet hum, nodding as his gaze rose back to Isa. “...I do.”

The corners of Isa’s eyes crinkled from the small smile that skirted across his lips. “There you are. You’ve gone ahead and answered my question from before already. Something tells me you already had the answer then, too.”

Another low rumble of a laugh almost made its way past Xemnas’s lips, though it seemed to stick in his chest, instead. “Perhaps I did. Unfortunately, articulation of clear sentiment has never come naturally to me.” 

Once more, it was almost a joke, and Isa’s lips couldn’t help but quirk. “As long as it wasn’t another lie by omission.”

Xemnas’s expression fell, his gaze suddenly resembling that of a kicked dog. “I didn’t mean it in such a way. I do not wish to lie to you again.”

Isa was taken aback. It was going to take some getting used to, seeing Xemnas emote so vividly and deeply and, above all, truly. He paused, blinking in surprise. “...I believe you,” he said at length. And is that for your sake, or for mine? “I believe accepting your heart has changed you. And I believe your intentions. You… want to belong, don’t you?”

A look of pain etched itself across Xemnas’s face. He seemed to organize his thoughts for a moment before replying. “I was not meant to belong anywhere, Isa.”

“I know.” Of course he knew. Even as their leader, Xemnas hadn’t belonged with the rest of his Organization. And no one had felt a sense of belonging in the Real Organization but Master Xehanort, Isa was fairly certain. “But few of us turned out the way we were meant to. You’ve become a person, Xemnas, and it’s difficult to deny a heart the things it wants.” 

Xemnas turned away towards one of the bookshelves, but Isa caught sight of his brow furrowing as he exhaled through his mouth. “You have always been clever, Isa. But still, I will keep any such hopes tempered.”

Isa wondered why his own heart felt tugged so strongly by the melancholy tone of Xemnas’s words. He was perfectly aware that the damage Xemnas had wrought should have removed any entitlement to pity he might have been able to claim. But Isa had always had a softer, more sensitive heart than he ever liked to admit; a heart that had quietly and secretly nursed Lea’s rescued street puppies back to health, a heart that had burned and broken for his friend trapped in the basement laboratories, a heart that, even stunted and shriveled, had shattered brutally at the prospect of being replaced by the only friend he’d ever had. A heart that ached now for Xemnas, a man who had never known what it meant to be, whose own heart had reached out desperately enough to Isa’s to tether himself to this world despite never having been meant to exist in it at all.

He cocked his head slightly, closing his eyes with a sigh. “I know how it feels. Not quite being right. Feeling… separate. I barely spoke to anyone for weeks—months, almost—after I awoke. If I’m being honest, I’m only barely starting to do so now, and I don’t consider myself particularly good at it. But I don’t regret trying.” Maybe he didn’t know exactly who he was or where he fit, still, but he wanted to figure it out. All this seemed to be part of it, in some way or another.

Xemnas hummed a soft laugh. “You also have more to you than I ever have, Isa. And more who care about you. But… I will not squander this chance I have been given. The generosity of heart you have shown me is not something I will take lightly.”

“Good.” Isa placed a hand on his hip. “Recompletion… is difficult. Facing everything that happened, feeling everything so strongly. But it’s better than the alternative.”         

A quiet sigh, and Xemnas turned back to face him, one of his hands having risen over his heart. “I am glad you think so.”

“I do.” Isa took a few steps closer, looking up at Xemnas’s thinned face. “You’ve never had a chance to live a life of your own. The past won’t change, but what comes next is finally up to you.”

That honey-orange gaze was wistful, trained on him with a depth that Isa realized he had seen distant echoes of long ago. “Your heart is a special one, Isa. As are you. I… thank you.” His deep voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper, but he met Isa’s eyes as he spoke, unwavering, this time. It sent a strange heat pulsing in Isa’s chest, and he feared it might have made its way up to his pale face.

“...I already told you. You don’t need to thank me,” Isa replied, folding his arms. “You already know what you need to do. What you want to do.”  

Xemnas nodded thoughtfully. “At least I have been given a place from which to begin.”

“And hopefully it will be easier to think now that you’re out of the awful basement,” Isa said with a subtle smirk. “Actual sunlight might do you some good.”

“Perhaps,” Xemnas said with a slight smile of his own. “Though I have always been more fond of moonlight.”

Though Xemnas was now allowed to roam the castle, he elected to return to his room for the time being, citing the fact that this was the most he had used his legs in quite some time and his body remained weary. Isa, however, suspected that Xemnas may still be feeling overwhelmed by everything that came with recompletion. He didn’t mention as much, simply showing Xemnas the way back to his new room. 

“Oh. I almost forgot,” Isa said once they were there. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a new gummiphone. “This is for you. It can be used to communicate, just in case you need anything.” Xemnas’s model had a few additional specifications and restrictions; it had only the numbers of the apprentices and Isa for now, and also gave an accurate reading of its location to the lab computer at all times. Isa quickly showed him how to use it by sending a message himself. “Try to keep it with you. The others may also reach out to you on it.”

Xemnas turned the thing in his hand, looking it over. “How interesting. Thank you.”

Isa shifted his weight, arms folding. “I’ll be around. I go between here and Twilight Town often, but either way… I’ll see you soon.”

He departed, feeling Xemnas’s striking gaze lingering on him as he went back down the stairs. 

Those eyes. The way they looked at him. Isa reached the foot of the stairs, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall with a sigh, trying to ignore the steady beating of his own heart.

Xemnas still thought highly of him. Still valued him.

Still wanted him.

Isa had always reveled in being wanted. Desired. Praised. He needed it, craved it, that sense of validation he could curl up on and in and around, blanket himself with to stifle his own low opinion of what he was. He had always let himself be defined by where he stood in comparison to others, by what others thought of him, by how important and useful they made him feel. That, along with his search for X, was part of why he had seen everything in the Organization as a competition―why he had scraped and clawed and fucked his way to the top. 

And yet he realized now that it wasn’t solely by sheer virtue of his skills that he made his way to his position as Xemnas’s right hand. If it were, Marluxia, Zexion, or even Vexen would have been held in higher regard. No, Xemnas had seen something else within Saïx, something that he sought out deliberately and of his own free will. Yes, Saïx was of use to him. Made himself of use to him. But so did others. And Saïx was still the one Xemnas chose. The reason didn’t matter anymore. It had still been him, and in whatever twisted way, Isa realized that such a choice meant something to him even now.

Saïx had been him at his worst, and Isa still wasn’t sure he could say he was now at his best. But Xemnas, it seemed, still wanted him, both then and now. Isa couldn’t help but relish in that, just a little.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t. He knew damn well that he shouldn’t. That a man like him didn’t deserve the attention of one man, let alone two.

Because there was still Lea

Oh, what a grand image of their life together Isa had always had, going all the way back to when he was a child; best friends forever, talking late into the night about anything and everything with ease, calling Lea his. Young little Isa had known exactly what he wanted. He was so very certain of it, down to the finest detail, his list of dreams neat and tidy and oh-so-deliberately organized. That was what Saïx had functioned off of for so long. That was why Saïx had gotten so very incensed when things had not gone according to his grand childhood designs, full of idealism and an infant’s notion of what love and friendship should be. Isa could see that, now. Could see that they had both changed. That a youthful dream, when painted over reality, could end up with the proportions being not quite right.

After all, this Isa was not the same one who had gone gallivanting through the waterworks as a teen with his friend, who planned distractions while Lea stole candy from the market. This Isa’s teeth were still sharpened to fine points, Saïx’s fangs sitting all too comfortably in his mouth. He had learned to tuck away his claws, but he felt like he was the only one able to see the scraps of flesh and flecks of blood that still clung to them, the only one who could still smell their stink. This Isa loved Lea, deeply and truly, always would—but this Isa also felt like he was trying to force himself into clothing that no longer quite fit, with patterns that didn’t quite suit him after all, despite his best intentions. 

All the pieces were there. He was expected, by all including himself, to finally be happy. He’d gotten what he wanted, after all. And it made him sick, realizing that what he thought he had wanted might have changed, despite all his bitter efforts to attain it.

What’s wrong with me? he thought to himself as he made his way through the halls, feeling short of breath. Can I truly do nothing the way I should?

What was he supposed to do? Was he meant to stifle the way his heart had raced when Xemnas looked at him with those wide, wistful eyes? Ignore the gooseflesh that rose on the back of his neck when Xemnas spoke his name in that low, rich voice? Deny the connection that he himself had inadvertently nurtured, the one that their newly-nourished hearts had evidently been all too willing to rekindle?

Or was he meant to tell Lea? Tell him that, try as Isa might, home still didn’t feel like home? That he felt like a piece from a different puzzle mixed in with the wrong box? Tell him that Isa’s cruel heart was twisting and twining with affection for another—and not just anyone, but the man that had shown Axel nothing but cold scorn at best and sheer cruelty at worst? 

Isa went back to his own temporary room in the castle, thorns of shame and self-loathing churning in his belly as he curled up on the thin bed. There was Lea, and there was Xemnas, and there was Isa, and Isa didn’t know if he wanted his cake and to eat it, too, or if he was just a coward afraid of the mess he would leave behind in either case. He stared at the wall like the possibility of boring a hole into it might suddenly make everything right, and he grabbed the pillow to squeeze against his chest as if trying to muffle the sound of his own heartbeat. 

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Xemnas gradually began taking the opportunity to stretch his legs. For the most part, he remained in his room, coming out only to eat or for the times he was instructed to come to the lab through the device Isa had given him. It was usually Even whose messages popped up in the morning, typically featuring truncated instructions for the day, such as, “Come to the lab after lunch. Examining the damage on the east wing of the castle today,” or, “Come to the lab in 30. We need to do another heart analysis on you,” or simply, “Come to the lab. Details TBD.” 

It was also through Even that he heard Isa had returned to Twilight Town for a while, seeing as “he’s done plenty of work here already and deserves some time to relax at home.” Yet again, Xemnas failed to hide the look of disappointment that feathered across his features, and yet again Even trained a sharp, stern eye on him. 

“You’re lucky he’s spent as much time here as he has. It only just so happened that Lea has been making himself useful for once by taking on extra missions. Otherwise, I don’t doubt Isa would have been far more scarce,” Even had told him while having him take notes on the castle’s damaged plumbing. 

Raising his head from the notebook he was scratching into, Xemnas’s eyebrows twitched together as he looked out vacantly over what had once been the Heartless manufactory. “I am truly grateful for what he has done. Anything he wishes to do, I would will nothing otherwise.” Even if envy and regret burned in him like a pyre at the thought of Isa returning home to Lea’s arms. To where he belonged, despite any hope Ansem had postured at giving him otherwise. I wonder if things ever could have been different, had I not been what I was.

Even looked at him, unimpressed. “That isn’t surprising, considering the blatant favoritism you’ve been showing him for years. There are others in this castle to whom you still owe restitution as well, you know.”

Xemnas blinked. “I… I know.” You. Dilan. Aeleus. Ienzo. “I am not blind to this. Whatever I can do to earn their forgiveness, I will attempt my best.”

“And what if your best still isn’t good enough for them? Will you give up and cease to try?” Even peered at him over his clipboard. “Ultimately, any sort of forgiveness is their choice. It is not something you are owed, no matter your efforts. Keep that in mind.”

There was a heavy note to Even’s voice, a severity in his gaze that pierced Xemnas to the bone. He closed his eyes for a moment, offering a slight nod. “...I understand.” Of course he did. It was all too easy to envision the cold, distrustful gazes of those who had once been in his order, to feel them icy on his back for years to come. He knew his heart’s desire to earn some, any kind of affection was an unrealistic one, and it wasn’t as though he was a stranger to denying himself any dreams of his own. In the old days, any time a vision of a normal life passed into his mind’s eye, all he could do was push it aside and leave it to be forgotten. He could do so again, if necessary.

It had, however, been far easier to do so as a Nobody. Hope, Xemnas found, was a painful little burr when it found a place to germinate inside a thrumming human heart. 

He was quiet for a moment, glancing back down at the notebook. “All the same. I owe it to you all to try.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.” Even returned to his business as brusquely as though they had simply decided on what to have for dinner, and Xemnas, as he so often found himself these days, was left reeling. His current companion was briefly silent, going over some data on the computer before raising his head again. “You should see if you can lend Dilan and Aeleus a hand with something during your downtime.”

“Do you think so?” Xemnas’s head cocked slightly, uncertain. 

“I do. If you’re going to continue to reside here, you will have to learn to navigate beyond slinking between your room, the lab, and the dining hall,” Even replied, his back turned to Xemnas. “That includes applying yourself elsewhere, too.”

I wonder how long it was that you dreamt of speaking to me as coldly as this. If it is at least cathartic for you, now. Xemnas, expression creased, ran his thumb along the edge of the notebook, past where he had been scrawling notes and diagrams of pipe repairs. 

Once, Xemnas’s pride would have burned far too hot to consider toiling and groveling away for a chance at forgiveness. However, a good portion of that pride had already wasted away during his tenure in the court of Xehanort’s Real Organization. There, it was as though the years he spent as its original Superior were as good as nothing, any respect he had once commanded dwindled to little more than demotion and mockery. Even the name—the Real Organization—had felt like a dig at his expense, a reminder that he had never been anything but a gilded chess piece moved by a hand greater than himself. The very least that could be said for the time he spent within its ranks was that it had humbled him—made him realize that his existence was even more meaningless than he had imagined. That it had never been respect that bound his companions to him, but merely false promises at best and abject fear at worst.

That was to say he did not consider himself too proud to seek redress anymore.

“...I will see what can be done for them.”

Once Even deemed his work in the lab done for the day, Xemnas, as he had been rightfully accused of, slunk back to his room to change out of the ill-fitting, hand-me-down lab coat it was insisted he wear while in the laboratory. The new room, at least, offered some semblance of comfort, its setting cozy and private; a place he could sensibly call his. 

To his mild surprise, he found himself especially enjoying navigating through the articles hanging in his closet. The knowledge that they were chosen with him in mind was a comforting one, and the textures of different kinds of cloth on his skin was oddly grounding. He had been no different from the rest of his number in that the Organization's coat had been worn practically non-stop in the old days, shielding them from the darkness in which they steeped themselves. This did, however, make the exploration of alternative modes of dress a rare occurrence. Now, given the opportunity, he discovered that there was a simple pleasure to be found in the coordination of colors and patterns, and a strange ease in knowing that Isa still knew him well enough to intuit his size and tastes. 

Xemnas smoothed the shirt he had changed into in the mirror, avoiding his own gaze as he did so. Though the clothing itself was pleasant, he had never enjoyed the sight of his reflection. Staring at it for too long made him feel like he was going mad, skin crawling at the feeling of not belonging, not right, at knowing that his eyes and nose and mouth had been another’s before they were his. It left him ill at ease, watching the way the face and body he wore changed as a result of his own care―or lack thereof. He doubted that sensation would ever go away. It was a strange wish indeed, desiring comfort in skin that was never supposed to belong to you.

He exhaled, closing his eyes and trying to push away those thoughts. They, in particular, had at least plagued him long enough that he was practiced in their dismissal. 

Clad now in a soft, thick white shirt and gray trousers, he steeled himself to head back into the heart of the castle. Aeleus and Dilan… hm.

Aeleus, Xemnas thought, would probably be a better place to start, if he could find him in one of the rare instances the two were apart. Dilan, after all, still looked at Xemnas like he was little more than a smear of waste on his boot, violet eyes burning with distaste. In surprising contrast, Aeleus had actually offered his former superior a few extensions of something like pity―a bar of chocolate tucked into the dust jacket of a book here, an offer of extra bedding there. Lexaeus, Xemnas recalled, had never been prone to the kind of cruelty the rest of the Nobodies had seemed to develop. It stood to reason that Aeleus bore a remarkably tender heart beneath his stoic exterior. Perhaps that might leave him more inclined to accept Xemnas’s presence.

That thought left Xemnas stopping suddenly in his tracks, his brow furrowing where he stood in the hall. 

…Am I only seeking to manipulate his feelings again? Is that truly all I remain capable of?

Doing so wasn’t his intent. His desire to change, to fix things, was sincere. But old habits died hard, did they not? What if his only capability lay in such manipulation? What if he had done enough damage that he truly didn’t know how to exist without leaving it in his wake? 

The instinct to hide back away in his room returned, roiling in his gut with the desire to shut himself off in his shame. For the first time in his life, he wanted to do what was right, and yet doing so seemed out of his grasp. Would it not be far easier for all of them if he weren’t here at all? Would his presence ever do anything but be a cruel reminder of old wounds?

As he stood there, lost in uncertainty, he was taken aback by a sudden voice cutting through the turmoil of his inner thoughts.

“Enough already.”

Xemnas blinked, standing stock-still in the empty hall as Ansem’s voice, of all things, echoed in his head. “...So you are able to bother me even when I am awake?”

He could practically see his Other’s visage smirking in his mind’s―heart’s?―eye. “I spent a fair amount of time as little more than a rogue heart. One picks up tricks along the way.”

“Is that so.” The feeling was unsettling, hearing that voice coming from nowhere but within him. Even though there was no one around, Xemnas’s reply was delivered under his breath. Did he even need to reply aloud? “How did you end up in my heart like this, considering that it was sleeping inside Terra’s until recently? I did not imagine such layers were possible.”

Rumbling through him came the odd sensation of a chuckle that wasn’t his. “Unlike you, I know how to control my heart. Terra’s had no problem housing it contentedly enough―then yours had to go and ache far too loudly for him not to notice. I merely followed when you were dragged out.”

“You always did cling to your projects,” Xemnas muttered like a hypocrite, glancing out the nearest window. It offered a view of one of the more damaged boroughs of Radiant Garden, and beyond that the blue-violet crags of the land beyond. Xemnas recalled standing on one of the precipices there, thinking only of his Kingdom Hearts as he looked out over the maw that had been teeming with Heartless. Saïx had been so very good at commanding them. Xemnas had keenly admired that back then.

“Must you be ever ungrateful?” Ansem droned back. “You seek connection, yet push away even the prospect of its offer. It is as the scientist said. You will achieve nothing if all you do is hide.”

Xemnas’s hand rose to form a tight fist over his heart. “I cannot hide even my innermost thoughts, it seems.” 

“Do I leave you with mine?” Ansem’s tone, Xemnas could tell, was simultaneously unimpressed and unbothered. “If you wish to keep such thoughts from me, you will simply have to learn to better manage this nascent heart of yours.”

Currently, said heart was feeling an undercurrent of irritation cutting through its usual moroseness of late. “It will come in time.”

“Only if you seek it.” The mildly-patronizing voice rang in his skull. “Enough of this idleness, Xemnas. Go find the company you are looking for and try. Or was what you told Even a lie? What do you think your beloved Isa would say, hearing that you have been wasting his efforts by spending every moment you can hiding away with your tail tucked between your legs?”

Xemnas gritted his teeth, wishing he actually had Ansem there physically to glare at. “You belabor the point yet again.”

“Then relieve me of the necessity,” his Heartless quipped in return. “Go on. Do something with the freedom you have been afforded.”

With that last statement, something in Xemnas could tell that Ansem had receded back inward, leaving him alone again―a rather strange feeling, he found. He couldn’t help but wonder how often Ansem would decide such interruptions were prudent, and hoped that he would at the very least be discretionary. 

Shaking his head brusquely, he rested his hands on the sill of the window for a moment, staring outward at the landscape to collect himself. Damaged sections of what had once been the city’s lush gardens were being rebuilt, the scaffolding in place needing to be filled in before new flowers could be planted. Other sections had been restored already, the multicolored blooms far below creating the image of a patchwork quilt that swayed gently in the breeze. Flowers… they did not grow in our old world.

Taking a deep breath, Xemnas pulled himself away from the window to descend once more to the castle's busier lower levels. The least that could be said for Ansem’s interruption was that it had been sudden enough to pull Xemnas from the depths of his own spiraling thoughts. He found it was all too easy for his heart to trap himself inside his own head lately.

It was a large castle. Though Xemnas was forbidden to leave it, he had slowly begun to reacquaint himself with its layout on those rare occasions he forayed out from his room towards somewhere that wasn’t the laboratory. Some portions, those that had needed total restoration, were entirely new to him, while walking through other halls had left him with a keen sense of déjà vu. Particular doors would spark flickers of memory, fragments of conversations and schemes arising in the back of his head. Though he considered Xehanort and himself to no longer be one and the same, opaque memories of his apprentice days remained present somewhere distant in his mind. He supposed that the amnesiac, ambitious young man Xehanort was back then had been the point from which Xemnas’s own psyche developed, at the very least. His own person or not, cloudy shards of what he had been before remained—not to mention what others saw when they looked at him. 

After spending some time wandering more than a little aimlessly, he came across Aeleus on one of the lower floors, massive axe slung across his back and carrying what looked like an empty burlap sack in hand.

“Oh. Xemnas.” The huge boulder of a man shifted his weight to one side, peering at him with a look Xemnas had become familiar with. It was one of wariness and caution in abundance, but there was at least an absence of outright derision and loathing in his blue eyes. 

Xemnas held himself away at what he hoped was a respectful distance, meeting Aeleus’s eyes for a nod of greeting before averting his gaze. “...Aeleus. Even informed me that I may be able to assist you with your work today, if you so wish.”

“Is that right?” Aeleus’s posture remained guarded, but he seemed to be considering the offer. “Well. I was going to the inner gardens to check for weeds. I suppose you could join me. It would go faster with two people.”

The idea of bending over and getting covered in dirt was far less appealing to Xemnas than working in the laboratory. There was a reason the Castle That Never Was had always been kept its flawless white. All the same, he hoped his face hadn’t given away his distaste at the notion of outdoor physical labor. He could hardly afford to be choosy in his tasks, after all.

He looked back to Aeleus. It was rare for Xemnas to actually have to direct his gaze significantly upward to meet someone’s eyes. “I am glad to join you, then.” 

Aeleus nodded with a quiet grunt. “Let me grab another bag. You can come with me.”

They went into a storage room nearby, where Aeleus retrieved another sack and a pair of thick gloves. He handed them to Xemnas. “In case anything’s thorny or spiked.”

“Thank you.” Like an awkward shadow, Xemnas took both the bag and gloves in hand before following Aeleus to the restored inner gardens, located around the base of the castle itself. It was the first time Xemnas had gone outside since his return, yet he had hardly noticed that was the case until he actually felt the sun on his skin and the breeze on his cheeks. He had always been something of an indoor-bound hermit, anyway, even when he had the utmost freedom of travel. The sun itself was an unfamiliar companion enough as it stood, his eyes taking some time to adjust to its direct brightness.

Never a man of many words, Aeleus simply gestured to one of the flowerbeds before bending at the knees to begin tugging at a few errant weeds. Xemnas hesitated for a brief moment before donning the gloves and doing the same a few yards away, wishing perhaps that he had not chosen to wear a white shirt. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, the air interrupted by nothing but the quiet rustling of leaves and distant sounds of the town beyond. And then Aeleus spoke up. “...Ah. You’re only getting the leaves.”

Xemnas raised his head, looking at the handful of weeds he was holding. Long green leaves that grew into sharp, thin spines on the sides. “Hm?”

“If you don’t get the roots,” Aeleus said, coming over and checking the ground Xemnas had been going over, “they’ll just grow right back.” He demonstrated by pulling another one, this time bringing a thatch of milky-white, dirt-covered roots out along with the rest.

“...Oh.” Xemnas looked back over the trail of his ineffectual weeding and sighed, brows pinching. Along with most positive emotions, Xemnas found he could add gardening to the list of things he had no memory of from either Terra or Xehanort. “I apologize.”

Aeleus only shook his head, stony expression unchanging. Xemnas expected a scolding or a dismissal, but when Aeleus spoke, it was to tell him, “It’s all right. You’re trying. And when those ones grow back, you can return and get them later.” With that, he simply went back to what he was doing a few feet away, leaving Xemnas sitting back on his heels and blinking in surprise. 

After a halting moment of thought, Xemnas, in spite of his defined lack of appreciation for dirt, replied, “I will. Thank you.” He reached for another weed, pulling it the way Aeleus had shown him. This time, he managed the whole of it, shaking a clod of earth clinging to the roots back onto the ground before stuffing the weed into the sack with the rest of his useless leaves. 

They worked in silence for some time more—Xemnas was unsure of exactly how much time, considering his still-warped sense of the passage of it. The sun was just beginning to set when Aeleus spoke up again, and the flowerbeds, from the looks of it, were now almost exclusively flowers again. “You’ve looked pale lately. It’s probably good for you to get some fresh air and sunlight.”

“Ah. I suppose so,” Xemnas replied, raising his head and sweeping some of his hair out of his face. I do not think I enjoy sweating... “Though I believe I am not to exit the castle alone.”

“I would say there’s nothing wrong with you coming out to these gardens. They’re technically part of the castle, anyway,” Aeleus said, rising and dusting himself off. “That’s enough for today. Thank you for the help.”

Xemnas took the cue to stand, himself, drawing off the dirty gloves and shaking them out. “Of course. I… wish to help you all where I can.” 

“I believe you.” Aeleus nodded, stretching his neck before looking back to Xemnas. “I believe in you, actually.”

That sentiment struck Xemnas silent, his eyebrows dipping. “That—is generous of you.”

Aeleus hummed quietly, peering up at the sky. “I’m not being generous. I’m just saying what I think.” He retrieved his axe from where he had laid it nearby, returning it to its place slung across his back. “I know he doesn’t seem like it, but Even does, too. Otherwise he wouldn’t have let you be here in the first place.”

Xemnas had a difficult time parsing that notion. Even may believe in his capability and use, perhaps. But in him? That felt like another matter entirely. 

He stared down at the flowers, focusing on the gently-swaying pastel blooms at his feet. “Regardless of whether or not he does, I won’t fault him, nor anyone, for whatever disdain for me they bear.”

"It’s not just you.” Aeleus leveled his gaze again, intense blue eyes bearing down on Xemnas. “All of us here. We did horrible things. Unforgivable things. Things we’re doing everything in our power to atone for.” He reached down, carefully plucking a flower. It looked miniscule in the huge man’s hand as he twirled the stem between his fingers. “Both Even and Dilan… they took longer to recover than the rest of us. They had to rest for weeks before they stabilized. Everything that happened, everything they did—it was like it was all too heavy for their hearts to handle.”

Shoulders slumped, Xemnas cast his eyes to the ground. He was all too aware that his hand had been all too present in directing theirs, in placing those weights on their hearts. It still seemed to him that such a tremendous part of having a heart was feeling it ache. 

Aeleus went on. “Whether or not it was you or Xehanort leading us… we still did what we did. Followed you for our own reasons. We were doing experiments right alongside the Xehanort we knew, and we looked right into peoples’ eyes as we did them. None of us stopped when we could have. None of us tried to stop him." He stared up at the castle, expression pensive. “It eats away at those two more than anyone else. And they see themselves, those mistakes, in you, too. That’s part of why they’re so cold. But that’s also why they want to believe in you, even if it doesn’t seem that way.” He sighed, handing the plucked flower to Xemnas. “The people we experimented on… we can’t bring them all back. We can never make that up to their families or their friends. We can’t change what we did or what we were. We'll carry those regrets forever. But we’re doing what we can now. Just like you.” 

Xemnas listened solemnly. As Aeleus spoke, he could almost physically feel the intensity of the emotions stirring within him, surging outward in a complex tangle from the heart thumping in his chest. Grief and hope scratched beneath his ribs, guilt and gratitude knotting together in his stomach. His tongue, once so silver, was at a loss, stricken dumb by humanity. 

“I…” He trailed off, looking down at the flower in his hand. He brushed over the delicate, pale blue petals with one hand, the thin stem held between a thumb and index finger. There were so many things he wanted, he realized. He knew he could never have all of them. But that was being human, was it not? Feeling pain, feeling loss, feeling failure, all one after another, yet continuing to be driven by hope and desire for the inverse all the same. That was what the others, too, were doing, he now saw. 

He lifted his gaze back to Aeleus, his own stare having grown more resolute. “I will continue to do all I can, then.” For the first time in his existence, the outcome of his life was up to him alone. And he did not want to squander that as he had squandered the opportunities of his past.

A slight, crooked smile came to Aeleus’s face. “Good. Otherwise we’re all in trouble.”

Xemnas found he could not quite tell whether or not Aeleus was making a joke, but he smiled back all the same. 

They disposed of their bags of weeds, and Aeleus gave Xemnas a curt nod as they parted ways. Xemnas returned it in kind, and after retrieving something to eat from the kitchen, he made his way back to his room once more. Loneliness remained his most present companion, but he wondered if ever it would become safe to hope that such a feeling may one day become an unfamiliar one.

He had held onto the flower, fragile little thing though it was, and placed it in a glass of water on his bedside table. As the sun set outside, as stars began to twinkle and the moon’s face rose in the encroaching indigo beyond, Xemnas sat looking out at the comfort of the night sky, and he hoped.

Chapter Text

Isa couldn’t help but feel like he had fled. He had run off, leaving Radiant Garden with hardly a word, bothering only to send Even a curt message about him returning to Twilight Town for a while and to let the others know. He’d had his little meltdown, and he left to try and compartmentalize it, to try and remember―reenforce―who he really was and what he really wanted. He knew the answer, didn’t he? At least somewhere deep down, he had to―that was what he told himself.

It was early morning when he stepped foot back into their apartment, though it wasn’t like the eternal sunset gave any indication of the time; it was told only by the clock tower and the clocks in their home. They had the one in the kitchen, and Isa also kept an analog alarm clock perched tidily on his nightstand. 

Originally, Isa had intended to stay in Radiant Garden until he got word Lea was back. From the messages he had gotten over the week, it sounded like Lea’s mission was going to take a few more days, and Lea had apologized for it over and over—for being away, for taking so long, for leaving Isa alone. These days he was ever tactful in his unspoken acknowledgement of Isa's clinging, needy nature, dodging around certain topics and being overly conscientious about checking in on him whenever any topic that could be described as sensitive arose. Isa could only think that it must be exhausting for him. It was exhausting for Isa.

After hanging up his things, Isa went to brew himself some too-strong tea in the kitchen, hoping it might quell the queasy feeling churning in his gut. Not bothering with sugar or cream, Isa sipped his scalding drink and looked around their apartment as if it were his first time there, like he was trying to find himself amidst its walls. Isa kept all the pots and pans in the kitchen tidily organized, which was made easier by the fact that they rarely got used. One of the cupboards was brimming with mugs; Lea had a habit of bringing them back from worlds he visited. Isa had a few favorites among them, of course. He drank from one now, a nice, small thing of ivory ceramic that came from San Fransokyo, if he remembered correctly. At first glance, it looked quite plain, but it had a pleasant pearly sheen when its surface caught the light. Warming his hands around the base of it, Isa wandered into their living room.

Lea had already had the apartment mostly furnished by the time Isa joined him there. The couch and coffee table had come with the place, he had said, but he had spruced them with pillows and blankets and coasters, laying out a vibrant multi-colored shag rug below that Isa secretly found hideous―even though he wouldn’t say anything about it, since Lea had been delighted by the thing’s “charm” when he brought it home. Lea’s magazines littered the coffee table, and his pictures adorned the walls and the shelves. A great deal of them were of Lea with Roxas and Xion, though glimpses of Isa himself had crept into more of them lately―often against his will, considering how powerfully camera shy he swiftly found himself to be now that everyone seemed to be brandishing one all the time. He felt he always looked grumpy and uncomfortable in the photos, even when he knew he had been enjoying himself, but Lea was always quick to reassure him that “that’s just your face and there’s nothin’ wrong with it.” A sweet enough sentiment, but it did close to nothing when it came to getting Isa in front of a camera lens. 

Padding down the hall to their bedroom, Isa drew the curtains and lit his moon lamp instead, sitting cross-legged on the bed. The bedding, too, Lea had already picked out aside from a single dark blue set Isa had returned home with after spilling red wine on the light blue one and being unable to get the stain out. 

None of the sheets, Isa had quickly taken note of, were white.

He sighed, swirling the dregs around his mug before downing the last of them. He lived in Twilight Town, but it didn’t yet feel like home. At least not the way it seemed to for the others. There were parts of him here in the apartment, here in Twilight Town, and he knew that―but not as much as there could be. Should be. Isa knew, should he ask, that Lea would let him move things around, add more decorations of his own, but when it came down to it, it was always a brusque, “It’s fine, Lea. What you have is just fine.” And that was that. It was hardly something to fuss over.  

And yet, when it all added up, it was.

It had always been so very difficult for Isa to vocalize what he actually wanted. When he was young, he had just been shy and oversensitive, the thought of admitting he liked someone or wanted something being too mortifying an ordeal to parse. As Saïx, he had convinced himself that it was impossible for him to care about anything beyond his broader goals, and even if he could, those almost-feelings were to be hidden or encrypted or outright ignored, because what purpose did they serve beyond distraction? Purpose had been everything, after all―action, not words.

Now, even still, he did not ask or make any such things known because he simply no longer deserved to. After what had happened, after what a burden, what a nightmare he had been, how could he ask Lea or Roxas or Xion or anyone, for that matter, to take him into account when they decided what to eat, what to buy, what to do, where to live? Lea already troubled himself too much trying to make Isa comfortable, and the two teenagers had been miraculously kind enough of heart to forgive him for all he had said and done to them. How could he possibly ask for anything more? He was lucky to be amongst them at all, and he tried so very hard to make himself easy, palatable, unobtrusive, all in an attempt to earn his keep. 

Sitting there on Lea's favorite burnt orange sheets, Isa pulled a pillow to his chest and lay back, looking at the ceiling and listening to the quiet ticking of the clock on his nightstand, unable to shake the feeling that he was out of place here. He had been wrong, everything about him, and Isa thought that by stifling that, by pushing all that wrongness that was him aside, it would make things right. But he was starting to wonder if, somewhere along the way, he had lost sight of himself.

He squeezed the pillow tighter, closing his eyes.

No; he hadn’t. If he truly had, this would be easier. No, Isa did know who he was and what he wanted, and he knew he could only ignore it for so long. Bothersome, difficult, selfish thing that he was—he couldn’t stop himself from wanting even more than he had unfairly been blessed with. Wanting friends. Wanting attention. Wanting to speak. Wanting to be heard. 

Wanting him.

A few more days passed, and Isa remained restless, fraught with a cocktail of sorriness and frustration. As if to make up for his unspoken thoughts, Isa made a concerted effort to tend to Roxas and Xion while Lea was away—not that they needed him to, but all the same, he felt like he should be doing something. He still feared overstepping, not wanting to leave them startled or uncomfortable, but he supposed leaving boxes of pizza on their porch with a text to indicate his delivery was acceptable enough, right? Dammit, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he’d ever learned how to be a normal, pleasant person, or ever even showed much promise for it in the first place. At least Xion always seemed to reply gratefully, and Roxas would send him a series of emojis that were almost indecipherable but taken to be appreciative. 

At one point, Xion even asked if he wanted to come along with them to visit a museum or some such thing, and Isa panicked over the offer for upwards of an hour before asking as politely as possible for a raincheck. Almost as soon as he sent thst reply, he regretted doing so. She had been so willing to accept him, had called him her friend, and now she must think he was being cruel again without Lea’s watchful supervision, that he was trying to avoid them. Well, he was, but out of no maliciousness—he just knew that they would ask about Radiant Garden, how he had been, what he had been up to lately that had been keeping him so busy. Heavens forbid they ask about Xemnas—and then he realized with a start that he wasn’t even certain they knew he was back. Had Lea told them yet? They certainly hadn’t said anything to Isa that reflected as much. He wasn’t sure he could handle explaining that to them by himself, without Lea to monitor the conversation and make sure Isa didn’t drop a blight on the happiness the two teenagers had found at last. 

And, of course, should he see them right now, they would talk about Lea himself, how excited they were for him to get back and for them all to go get ice cream together again, and Isa would be overwhelmed by his shame. Twisted, sickening guilt crackled in his core when he realized that part of what he was feeling was dread; dread at knowing Lea would be able to tell something was off, dread at inevitably having to talk—and the deepest dread of all at feeling anything but contented excitement when it came to seeing Lea again.

Isa had circled the day Lea was supposed to get home on the calendar―as if he needed any sort of visual reminder. He made himself a simple dinner, sending Lea a message as he ate.

“Are you still going to be home tonight?”

It didn’t take too long for a reply to come buzzing back to him. 

“sure am. u too?”   

“Here already. I made dinner.”

“look at u lol. been hanging out w little chef?”

“Unfortunately not. I don’t blame you for having the pizza place on speed dial.”

“haha. dw, be home soon and cant wait to see you <3”

Isa looked at the screen for a moment, trying not to feel the uncomfortable lurch in his belly that had only gotten worse since he left Radiant Garden. With a quiet sigh, he set his phone down and went to wash the dishes, most of his dinner abandoned as he busied his hands in an effort to calm his mind. Mechanically, he combed through their living space for anything to clean or organize as though he hadn’t already done so ad nauseam over the week, and eventually ended up lying on the couch, staring at the wall and willing himself to stop being wrong about all this.  

The minutes crawled by until, at last, Isa heard the latch of the front door unlock and open, twilit sunlight spilling into their entryway from outside. Sure enough, that brilliant shock of red hair made its way into Isa’s line of sight, and he heard Lea’s familiar voice call out, “I’m home!”

Hopping up from the couch, Isa went to greet him, pulling his own hair over one shoulder. “Hey—” 

He barely got the word of greeting out before Lea’s arms crashed around him in a tight bear hug, lifting him a few inches into the air and squeezing him tight. The skinny man had always possessed surprising strength. “Damn, I’ve missed you.” 

Isa squeaked in surprise when Lea enveloped him, stiffening up until his feet were solidly on the ground again. He returned the embrace with a more gentle hug of his own, then pulled away to actually see Lea’s face. There was a grin plastered over it, and Isa offered him a soft smile of his own. He didn’t force it any wider, because he knew Lea could immediately recognize when his expressions were strained. “Missed you, too.”

“You manage to survive this long without me?” Lea’s tone was teasing, and he gave Isa a peck on the cheek before he dropped his bag down onto the floor and nudged it up against the wall with his foot.

“What’s it look like?” Isa snorted, lifting Lea’s bag and hanging it up on a hook. 

Lea laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and mussing those ginger spikes. “I was gonna get that in a sec. But hey, how’ve you been? Everything okay?” There was that note of concern Isa knew he would hear in Lea’s voice. Not patronizing, not quite, just considerate and… cautious, like he was making sure none of Isa’s tripwires had gone off. 

Sometimes, when his heart was feeling particularly shaky and rough around the edges, Isa wondered where this constant depth of perception and attentiveness had been back in the Organization. Back when Saïx had been so wretchedly starving for it, lashing out for it in his desperation to get Axel to see him. Every time he caught any such thought, he would deliver himself a swift reminder that he had given Axel little reason to offer any such consideration. There were so very many things Saïx should have done differently, and Isa should be nothing but grateful, now.

Still, in that moment, Isa smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “Everything’s fine. It’s been nothing but peaceful.” That, at least, was true. All of Isa’s turmoil had been internal. 

“That’s good to hear.” Lea took Isa’s hand, guiding them both back over to the couch and flopping them both to sit on it with a tug and a thwump. He laced their fingers together, resting his head on Isa’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about you lots.”

“Is that right?” Isa let out a soft, breathy laugh, squeezing Lea’s hand. “Well, I know I’m a handful.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lea snorted, and he reached up to pinch the tip of Isa’s nose. “You’re my handful.”

Despite himself, something in Isa twinged at that. He just shook his head with a short huff of a laugh, changing the subject. “It was a busy mission, then?” 

Lea groaned. “Sure was. There’ve been these outbursts of Heartless lately in the worlds around here, and we haven’t been able to figure out where they’re coming from.”

“Really?” A familiar furrow formed at Isa’s brow, and he felt another flash of guilt as he thought of his own selfish worries of late. At least they might pale in comparison to a threat amongst the worlds. “Is anything at risk?”

“Not yet, I don’t think,” Lea said with a yawn. “We’re all just trying to get to the bottom of it before it gets to that point. But c’mon, I don’t wanna talk about work when I just got home.” He grinned, wiggling their embraced hands back and forth. “How ‘bout you? What’ve you been up to? Roxas and Xion said you’ve been around here the last few days.”

And the subject was changed right back. Isa withheld a sigh. “I have. I thought I should probably keep an eye on them while you were away.” Not like they needed it. Isa hated himself for playing with half-truths again.

“Look at you.” Smiling, Lea swung a leg up onto the coffee table, releasing Isa’s hand to clasp both of his own behind his head. “Someone’s going soft.”

Isa smirked, folding his arms. “What an accusation.” 

“We all know it’s true.” Lea looked up at the ceiling for a moment, his smile fading slightly as a look of thought replaced it. Looking back to Isa, he appeared to be gauging his words carefully. “You still been working in Radiant Garden, too?”

“It’s been a couple days,” Isa quietly replied. “They seem to be handling things fairly well over there.”

Lea hummed, and Isa could feel his bright green eyes on him. He wondered if he was just imagining the slight air of relief that seemed to come over Lea. “Yeah? And everything’s okay with… everything?”

I don’t know. “Yes. As far as I can see.” Isa toyed with a thread on his jacket before looking back up at Lea. “But you said it yourself―you just got home. Let’s not talk about work.”

A funny look came over Lea’s face, but he didn’t push the subject even though Isa could tell he wanted to. “Guess you’re right. Time to relax,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his spikes. “That means you, too. I can tell when you’re wound up, y’know. Can’t hide it from me.” Looking back over at Isa, he straightened up and took his hand again. He wore a crooked, apologetic smile, but his eyes were serious. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. Really. But you know I’ll always come right back, right? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Isa met Lea’s eyes, fearing that he looked like a deer in headlights.

What if I am?

“...I know. It’s really alright, Lea. I can handle myself on my own just fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I know you don’t really like to.” Lea’s tone took on a breezy quality as he ruffled Isa’s hair, and Isa hoped he hadn’t caught the inward flinch at the assertion. “Why don’t we go out tonight? Grab something to eat, maybe hit the clock tower. Just you and me.”  

“What about Roxas and Xion?” Isa’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sure they’ve missed you plenty, too.” He was just putting things off again, bringing up what he knew tended to twist a conversation in Lea's interest.

“See?” Lea’s arm snaked around Isa’s neck in an affectionate headlock, pulling him closer with a chuckle. “You are all soft on them, these days. But hey, something tells me you could use a little extra quality time, too, baby.”

So Lea was feeling like he had to accommodate for Isa’s mood yet again. He was always doing so for him, bending over backwards for someone who had hardly earned it. The sweet gesture only made Isa’s guilt seethe. “If you insist,” Isa replied softly, tapping the nape of Lea’s neck.  

“I do insist. C’mon, lemme shower and let’s go.” Lea gave him a kiss on the cheek before shimmying back up to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. Isa watched him head off down the hall, and only once he heard the shower turn on did Isa let his expression knit up. 

I need to talk to him. Why is it so hard to just talk to him?

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced in the kitchen. Was sooner better than later? Where to even start? 

Isa cared so much for Lea, truly and deeply. He loved him. He did. He couldn’t ever not love him―not after everything they had been through, all the memories they shared, both good and bad. But after so many years of not knowing which of his feelings were real and which were from memory, of each and every one of them being stifled and stunted and misunderstood, it had taken him until this point to realize that the love he bore Lea now might not be what it was supposed to be. At least not right now.

They were supposed to be a perfect pair, coming in a set just like they had when they were little, when Isa’s youthful heart had pounded with the puppy crush it had on his best and only friend. That shy, blushing affection had beat loudly and proudly in his chest right up until the moment his heart was pierced out of it―and then he had clung to the sanctity of that childhood memory for the hollow years to come, tried to cobble something out of it even when the capability wasn’t there.

They had drifted apart, but that wasn’t supposed to matter now. They were back together again. Just like they should be. All the arguments and affairs of the Organization were meant to be things of the past, lost to time, pushed aside for the new that was built on the old, on their times together before it all. Lea was supposed to make him feel complete at last, Isa’s missing piece for all that time, the purpose Saïx had been looking for. That puppy crush, over those long years, should have blossomed into so much more, into the contented, satisfied, fulfilling romance Isa’s secret sentimentality had always dreamed of. But it seemed he and his life were mutually incapable of doing things as they should. At least never on the first try.

Only a fool, he supposed, would ever have expected things to feel the same as they had before the Organization―and Isa always had been something of one. They had both returned to life, to humanity, and Isa kept waiting for that old, fuzzy feeling to tickle his heart and make it flutter madly the same way he remembered from his youth, like nothing else had ever happened between them. Of course it couldn’t be that way. The Organization had changed them both far too much, for better and for worse and everything in between. 

Over this last week in particular, Isa realized that he didn't know Lea now as well as he thought; that their interests, what they enjoyed and what they wanted, had diverged while he wasn't paying close enough attention. Isa didn't especially like parties or junk food or going out to watch Struggle battles. Lea didn't like hours-long baths or walking at night or poring over arguably boring scientific studies. Lea was perfectly at home here in Twilight Town, but Isa couldn’t help but yearn for elsewhere. It had taken going back to Radiant Garden to realize that fact, back to where he was drenched in regret but drenched in home, too, a sense of belonging resonating deep in his heart as he re-familiarized himself with the old streets, the old smell of the air, his beloved old night sky with its phased moon. 

Maybe that was why he had felt so restless, so uncertain these past few months since waking. His mind knew all his shoulds, the neat, tidy lists of how everything was supposed to be. And yet his heart, earnest thing that it was, hardly cared for such plans and lists. It knew how it felt long before Isa parsed it out for himself. 

It loved Lea. It always would. Isa would rip that very heart out of his own chest all over again for him, if he ever needed to. But the baggage it bore left him unbalanced, lopsided in his hurry to claim their bond, not realizing that he might not have been ready for it. 

And even worse, in the same thrumming pulse, the same beat, his heart also longed for another connection it never should have made. It raced when he thought of another pair of hands finding their way around his body, ached in the face of a deeper voice and darker eyes, yearned at the prospect of another’s desire. 

His accursed, fickle heart dripped with honey when it thought of Xemnas. Xemnas, who never should have made Saïx feel wanted, but did. Who never should have come back, but had. Who never should have been forgiven, but was. Isa looked at him, and he couldn’t help but imagine his potential, imagine him spreading his wings and learning to truly live as a human, heart and all, could. And Isa, despite it all, wanted to be there alongside him. Not only that—he wanted to be with him again, touched by him, embraced by him, treated in those strangely tender ways Xemnas had once shown to Saïx and no other. He wanted Xemnas to want him now, just as Xemnas had wanted Saïx back then. He wanted to know what Xemnas's affection might feel like now that they were both complete at last.

Isa's heart, after so much confused, aimless aching, had realized that it yearned for Xemnas, too, and the guilt of that wish was eating him up alive.

Isa stared into the sink, at his dim, distorted reflection in the chrome, swallowing hard to try and quell the sick feeling in his stomach. I’m going to hurt him again. No matter what I do or what I say, he’s going to be hurt.

Lea deserved better. Better than cold, detached, awkward Isa. Lea deserved someone who burned with his same fiery passion, who could joke and laugh with all the ease in the world. Someone he could actually talk to without feeling like he was prying open a clam or treading on eggshells. Someone who wasn’t manufacturing themselves, forcing themselves to fit where they didn’t feel they should. 

At the very least, Lea deserved some of the truth―that Isa wasn’t ready for the love Lea had to offer him. That Isa, as he was now, couldn’t return it the right way, not while his heart was still healing from the damage he himself had inflicted on it. Not while it was still grappling with decades of unaddressed insecurities. Not while, at this moment, it was reaching out to the very man they had once sworn to kill.   

Eventually, Isa heard the shower shut off, accompanied by some of Lea’s off-key humming down the hall. He placed a hand over his heart, pressing it against his chest as though that might soften the hasty bludgeoning of its rhythm. He had sought his heart for so long, ached for it, done unspeakable things for it, and now that he had it back in all its glory, it proved too strong in its will even for him to contend with, sometimes. He was still getting used to its guidance being so intense―but he supposed it was high time he learned to listen, and to be honest about what it told him.

May your heart be your guiding key.

Ten minutes later, Lea emerged, dressed in his usual dark plaid. “You ready to head out?” he greeted Isa, still towel-drying the damp, wild spikes of his hair. 

Isa shook himself out of his spinning thoughts, forcing his resolution to settle over the sickness in his belly. "I am." He nodded, his chest tight. "Lea… could we talk tonight? I've had… a lot on my mind lately." He had to get the request out now before he could retreat back inward. 

"Huh?" Green eyes widened, and then Lea nodded, the expression on his face somewhere between relief and concern. "Of course, Isa. Whatever you need. Want to grab some pizza and head to the clock tower?"

A fitting enough place, Isa supposed, for heavy conversation. The tower carried the weight of plenty such conversations that had come before, he was certain; including his own with Lea, back before the Keyblade War. 

"That sounds good." Isa offered a soft smile that didn't quite brighten his eyes.

They grabbed a pizza to go, though Isa had little in the way of an appetite as they brought it up to the clock tower. With a half-eaten slice hanging from his mouth, Lea plopped down in his usual spot, one long leg dangling down the side of the tower while the other perched up on the ledge. Looking out over the honey-hued, unchanging skyline for a moment, Isa settled down next to him, resting his hands on his knees. He grabbed a slice from the box to nibble at, as usual finding it a little too heavy and greasy for his liking. 

“So.” There was a long, relaxed sigh from Lea, who leaned back on one hand while he ate, eyes on Isa. “Something’s getting to you. Did something happen while I was gone?”

Peering down the sheer drop off the clock tower, Isa wished the constricted feeling in his belly was just vertigo. “No… not really.” He gave up on his dinner, returning the half-eaten slice to the box. “I’ve just been thinking lately. About a lot of things.”

He felt rather than saw Lea’s posture grow more serious next to him. "You're always thinking. What's got you tangled up this time?"

There was silence that stretched just past being brief, the gentle breeze the only sound as Isa attempted to organize his thoughts and send them through to his leaden tongue. He stared out over Twilight Town, scooting back so he wasn't quite so close to the precipice of the ledge on which they sat. "Lea…" He began quietly, his voice low and thin. "You are so dear to me. I know how poor I am at showing it. But you are. I wish… I was better at all of this."

"Huh?" Every ounce of Lea's attention was on him, and Isa could feel it like he was being smothered with cotton. "You don’t need to worry about any of that. You're fine, Isa. Really."

Isa shook his head stiffly, feeling his throat threatening to constrict. "I'm… not. That's what I need to talk about." He finally looked at Lea, his own expression knitting as he met those bright, warm green eyes. 

They had widened a little, and Lea nodded slowly, his pizza now abandoned. "Okay."

Isa took a breath, pinching at the fabric on his knees. "I thought everything was going to be perfect again. Just like when we were kids. Didn't you?"

Lea's eyebrows dipped inward, and he crossed his ankle under his knee, a small frown tugging at his mouth. "I dunno. In some ways, I guess. But we're not kids anymore," he said, slow and thoughtful. "And that's okay with me. Things are plenty perfect enough."

"That's what I've been trying for. Trying to be," Isa went on in little more than a whisper. "I've been trying to be the right person. The perfect person. But… I don't know if I am, Lea."

"What?" The syllable carried a note of shock, sharp and dry. “What are you talking about, Isa?”

Breaking eye contact seemed like the only way Isa could keep going. He stared down at his lap instead of Lea’s worried eyes before going on, down at what would be a long, painful fall off the clock tower if he made a wrong move. “I’ve been trying so hard to do everything right, this time. To make sure everyone is happy. That’s all that should matter to me, isn’t it?” His voice wavered, and he bit his cheek, his body screaming at him for forcing himself to be vulnerable. “That is what I want. But I―my whole life, I’ve never been anything without you. You know that, don’t you? Everyone has always known that.” He felt his words speeding up, tumbling out as the dam began to break, as the precipitous fall seemed all the closer.

“Isa…” Lea sounded alarmed, and Isa felt his hand land on his shoulder, the motion almost hesitant. “That’s not true. You’re so much more than that. You’re your own person, Isa.”

Roughly, as if to clear his thoughts, Isa shook his head, staring straight ahead but not truly seeing any of the horizon that was in front of him. “I―I know that now, in some ways. But I’ve only just started to see it. That’s what scares me—the fact that you were right all along. I am the one who changed.”

“We all changed.” Lea spoke emphatically, bunching the fabric at Isa’s shoulder in his fist as he held it. “Every last one of us. But that’s okay. You’re still my Isa, right? No matter what.”

For the first time in quite a while, Isa felt his eyes well up with tears, inhaling a quick, shuddering breath around the burning lump in his throat. His vision had blurred, and he couldn’t see anything but a hazy smear of sunset. “I don’t know.” A husky whisper, the words dropping from his lips like an admission of guilt. He supposed that was what they were.

“You… don’t know…?” Lea’s hand fell away from his shoulder, sliding down to weakly grasp his hand. “Isa… whatever this is, whatever’s going on for you right now, we’re gonna get you through it. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Isa just raised a knuckle to wipe the tears from his eyes, offering himself a gesture that was unsympathetic and frustrated and accompanied with a ragged huff through his nose. “I’m sorry. I think…” he whispered, pushing past his own guilt and grief at himself, “I need a break, Lea. Some time… alone. Away, on my own terms. To figure myself―everything―out.” Every word sank like a pit in his belly. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine how they must be landing on Lea.

Silence again, Isa’s body taut and tense as a violin string, Lea’s air of utter shock palpable as his hand stalled in its rhythmic squeezing of Isa’s. “You really…?” He sounded like the air had been sucked from his lungs, and Isa pressed the back of his hand over his own mouth, wishing the drumbeat of his heart would just dampen for a moment and let him breathe. “Are you sure, Isa? That’s what you really want?”

“No. Yes. It's...” Isa looked back at him at last, met his eyes and found worry and astonishment there. It’s because I’m still a selfish, horrible thing, after all. “It’s complicated. But I think it would be best for everyone.” Isa’s own gaze was pained, his heartbeat taunting him with its ardent pulse, its bleeding ache.

Lea appeared struck dumb. “For you to leave? No, Isa, that’s not…”

“Please, Lea.” Isa’s voice finally cracked. “It’s—what I need. I wouldn’t have told you unless it truly was.”

“But you’re coming back, right?” Isa could tell Lea was trying to hide the urgent worry radiating from him, but it struck Isa to the core all the same. “I can’t—I can’t lose you again. I love you, Isa.”

“I love you, too,” Isa half-whispered, genuine around his voice’s tremor. “No matter what, don’t ever think for a second that I don’t. I never want to be out of reach again. That’s why I need to do this.”

“Do what?” Lea was looking at him head-on, concern etched on his features. Concern that Isa was the one causing, over and over again, it seemed like. 

There was another pause before Isa spoke again. “...I want to spend some time living in Radiant Garden again. Try to heal there. Fix things in myself.”

A look of profound bafflement and confusion melded together on Lea’s features, some of them hardening. “What? Isa, I don’t know… it’s ever since you started going back there that you’ve seemed on edge. There’s just—too much back there, especially now, with… with him back around. I don’t want you to lose yourself there.”

“That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do,” Isa almost snapped, his emotions surging over it all. “I’m trying to listen to my heart. To connect to more things, more people. To finally find some reason of my own to feel like I should matter.”

Lea just looked at him, looking like he was trying to process a thousand different things, and there was a wellspring of hurt and sadness in his eyes that Isa hated himself for putting there. The silence of his thought dragged on into agony, and Isa almost broke, almost apologized and rescinded it all, guilty tears burning their way down his cheeks―and then Lea nodded softly and said, “Okay.” 

He placed his hand over Isa’s, resting them on Isa’s thigh, his face pale and his gaze painfully earnest. “Isa… if that’s what you need, what you really need, then you go out and take it. You’ve been through enough. If this—if it’s not working here right now, if you’re not happy… I want you to go out and find whatever’s gonna help you. Whatever’s gonna make you smile. I just wanna be any part of that I can. Before it all, forever and always—you’re my very best friend.”

Each word, each sentiment hung in the air like crystal, refracting light and near blinding him with it, and Isa found he couldn’t speak. How could he after that, with the way his mouth was trembling, the way his throat had knotted shut? How were you always such a crybaby? It hurts so badly to cry. All he could manage was a shaky nod, clasping Lea’s hand tight. I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the words out, gaping like a fish instead and feeling like a fool. 

Lea pulled him in against his shoulder in an embrace, his hand delicate on Isa’s back. "It's okay."

It didn’t feel that way to Isa. But he nodded against Lea’s shoulder, wondering how awful of him it was to hope that it would feel better soon, that he wasn’t wrong for doing this. 

“Thank you, Lea,” he finally managed to whisper after what felt like far too long, his shoulders still drawn stiff and tight. “I’m sorry.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you to stop saying that?” Lea’s light tone sounded forced, the lament beneath it just as audible. “I trust you to know what you’re doing. You’re smart. You’re strong. And you’ve been through so damn much. I think about it all the time—the fact that I don’t really even know how much, still, ‘cause I… I wasn’t there when you needed me. But I’m here for you now, for whatever you’ve gotta do to feel right. Forever, and no matter what. Okay?” 

“...Okay.” Little more than a ghost of a word when it wisped past Isa’s lips. His overwrought little heart could no longer tell what it was feeling amidst its tumult. “Thank you… for... understanding.”

Lea gave a small, quiet bark of a laugh, patting Isa’s back. “Well, I didn’t say that. But I’ll try. You were always the smarter one, out of the two of us.”

A halting laugh shuddered through Isa, too. “We’ll see about that in the long run, I suppose.” 

Lea smirked, but the expression was sad. He seemed to think for a moment before speaking, opening and then closing his mouth a few times. “When… did you wanna go? …Back to Radiant Garden, I mean.”

Truthfully, Isa hadn’t expected himself to get this far. Now he was faced with the reality of everything he had decided. “...Soon,” he mumbled. “Better to rip the bandage off, I suppose. If I stay here too long, I...”

“You’ll just feel guilty, and you’ll make yourself stay. I get it.” Lea’s voice carried a quiet resignation as he pulled away to rest back on his hands, staring up at the sky.

Isa, his eyes rimmed in red, could only nod.  

It was difficult to discern how long they sat there, the air thick and heavy with the mismatched cocktail of feelings sitting between them that Isa certainly didn’t feel he had the emotional wherewithal to detangle. Eventually, Lea pushed himself up to stand, extending a hand to Isa with a long sigh that sounded like it came from deep in his chest. “...Wanna get going?”

Looking up at him, Isa faltered for another moment before taking Lea’s hand and pulling himself up in turn. “...Let’s.” 

He kept his mouth shut on the way back to the apartment, walking behind Lea with his face hidden away behind his collar. If he had tried to say anything, it would only have ended up being another apology. He felt raw, like his insides had been scooped out and drained, lanced of the mess that had been festering inside him, and yet still they bled from the roughness of the wound. He was left feeling a strange emptiness, one so very different from the one he knew so well as a Nobody, and one he wasn’t yet sure was good or bad. This was an intimately human feeling; one he knew little of, considering how rare it had always been for him to spill his guts and talk. But he finally had, and all he could hope was that it hadn’t been a selfish mistake.

“...We’ll figure the rest out later,” Lea said quietly as he closed the apartment door behind him. “But how ‘bout we go to bed for now? Deal with it tomorrow.”

Such a very Lea thing to say, Isa thought. He knew there was more they would have to go through—more he was putting Lea through. Isa, with his fear of abandonment so strong that he became a monster in the face of any threat of it, could only imagine what he would have felt were he in Lea’s place. He would have shattered. It would have killed him. And yet Lea—Lea had reassured him. Had told Isa that it was okay. Once again, Isa was struck with grief and gratitude in equal measure at the fact that Lea was so very different a man than he was. 

“...Yes. That… sounds good.”

It felt wrong, in a way, getting ready for bed like normal, like Isa wasn’t upending the life they knew. He moved like a man in a dream, the familiar motions feeling disjointed, his body acting on autopilot as his mind attempted to keep itself from spiraling into the whirlpool created by his heart. A few times, he caught a glimpse of Lea looking at him, expression appearing quiet and lost in thought, and Isa couldn’t help but avert his own gaze, a part of him wishing he could simply sink into the floorboards and out of sight and mind, instead. But Lea was also far more merciful than Isa felt was warranted, and he didn’t force him to speak any more.

Even still, they both climbed into Lea’s bed, Lea himself pulling the covers up and over them both. He gave Isa’s arm a squeeze, offering a quiet bid goodnight before settling his head on the pillow beside him, facing away. It felt wrong, somehow, for Isa to sleep here—and yet no other alternative seemed right, either. Lying on his back, still as stone, Isa’s tired eyes found a small chipped spot on the ceiling and fixed there, his hands resting on his belly. He doubted that his heart would let him sleep tonight, not with the way it still roiled and churned. And yet, as the agonizing minutes went on, marked by the hushed ticking of Isa’s clock, Isa found that he could no longer ignore the small, bittersweet fragment that had begun creeping out from the muddied mess of his selfish heart. 

It was relief.

He had his guilt, and he doubted it would leave him any time soon. How could it? Would it not be cruel not to feel it? But still, there was relief in knowing that, in one of the rare instances of his life, he had been honest with how he felt. Forthright, rather than leaving those around him to guess what was wrong when he wasn’t good enough at hiding it. He was trying, truly, to make things better, to heed the heart he had yearned for so many years to have. He was letting himself and what he wanted exist, after he had waited so very long to do so. And Lea—Lea had said that it was okay. Or at least that it would be. The least Isa could possibly do now was trust and believe him, and make sure that it was.

Isa clung to that, finding himself wishing once more that it was moonlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains.

Chapter Text

Xemnas wasn't certain how appropriate the term was for him to use, but he felt like he was slowly starting to… settle in. He wouldn't say he felt welcome, necessarily, but this life he had been brought back into seemed to be achieving some vague semblance of normalcy. He could not describe himself as happy, but he was alive, and he was no longer actively wishing otherwise. He had his routine—washing up in the morning in his new bathroom, dressing himself with articles from his new closet, and slinking his way to the farthest corner of the castle's dining hall for a small breakfast. From there, he would either attend to restoration business in the lab with Even and, sometimes, Ienzo, or he would be requested in the garden again by Aeleus. Dilan, when a subdued Xemnas had asked if the guard could use any of Xemnas's time or effort, as well, had merely replied, "What's it bloody look like?", which Xemnas took to mean "no." And when Xemnas's time was indeed his own, he spent it either in his room or tucked away in a secluded spot in the library, hidden out of easy sight at a small desk beneath the stairs. He read ravenously—books on history and fairy tales, most of all. Things tied to the memories of this world and others. 

The other people in the castle, from Ansem and the apprentices to other staff and passersby, tended to give the gloomy, residually imposing silver-haired man a considerable berth. Xemnas could not blame them. The way he held himself, the way he spoke, his very face; he was a walking memory, a bad dream given flesh. But he hoped, perhaps subconsciously, that as his presence came to be known again in these halls, he might one day become… accepted, at least. It was difficult to conceive of himself ever being wanted outright. However, he was forced by his newfound feelings to be honest with himself, and it was difficult to stifle the wish he bore for as much. His heart yearned desperately for true connection, real bonds, this time mutual and intentional. This time not taken for granted. 

But for now, he kept to his corners, and he simply… existed. 

There was a day when Even sent him off early, citing business elsewhere that he needed to attend to. Xemnas was not allowed in the laboratory on his own, so he set off back through the winding halls, finding them emptier at this time of day. 

As he approached the library, he paused as he heard voices coming from the atrium outside of it. Familiar ones—Dilan and Aeleus. They seemed to be embroiled in a heated conversation. Xemnas had no doubt that he wasn’t one they would wish to be interrupted by, and went to slip away in the opposite direction. Then he heard his name, and froze in his tracks.

"—since Xemnas returned? I’m saying that the timeline adds up.” Dilan’s low voice, quiet and gruff. 

“What do you mean?” Aeleus sounded uncertain.

“Look at when the Heartless numbers started rising. It was right after he was given a vessel. You don't think it may be connected?"

There was a sound of shuffling leather boots as one of them shifted his weight. "There's a chance it could be. But I don't think it's his fault."

"Not his fault?" A scoff, all gravel from Dilan. "What makes you think that? He's even trying to get his favorite pet back—and worse, it seems like it's working. You heard what Even said about Isa leaving Twilight Town."

"You're being unfair, Dilan." Aeleus's stern words barely made it to Xemnas, who was feeling like he had been punched through the gut and then had his innards pulled out. "Don’t let your past grudges get the better of you."

"That’s not what this is. I’m trying to be careful. Why do you think Isa is coming back here on his own, of all places?" There was the thud of Dilan's lance on the ground. "He's already finding his way right back into Xemnas's lap. You've heard the way he's talked, ever since the very first conversation about him."

"We weren't talking about Isa. We were talking about the Heartless," Aeleus interjected, his voice soft but firm. 

"I know.” Dilan huffed. “But it wouldn’t be the first time Xemnas got him to do his dirty work. Isa acting strange, more Heartless, Xemnas himself doing nothing but lurking about the castle—I don’t think I’m daft for being on edge.”

There was a long sigh from Aeleus. “I’m not saying that. But personal feelings make it easy to jump to conclusions. I know how you feel, but there could be hundreds of reasons for the Heartless. I don’t want to believe any of them are in this castle again. And with Isa… whatever choices he makes are his own. I’m sure he has his reasons for his decision.”

“Of course he does. The same reason he decided to whore around in Xemnas’s bed the first time.”

“You don’t know what his reasons are, or were.” Aeleus sounded beleaguered, as though this were a conversation the two had had before. “Xemnas has been making an effort. That’s what we were hoping for. And you know better than to judge Isa for his past, considering ours.”

Dilan grunted. “Tch. Whatever else you believe, it’s clear as day that Xemnas wants him back. Even if I am wrong about all but that, what do you think he’ll do when he hears the news?”

“He doesn’t need to hear anything from us. Unless the castle is in danger, it’s not our business.” 

Xemnas heard a grumble from Dilan, and the two guards’ voices dimmed as their footsteps led them away from where he was eavesdropping. He stood there in the hall outside, feeling—

He wasn’t certain what he was feeling. 

There was guilt and hurt at Dilan’s doubt. He recognized those feelings, to be certain, sitting like cold, clammy stones in his belly. He could not spite Dilan his suspicions, and couldn’t help but wonder if there was something lingering in his heart that was inadvertently drawing the Heartless here. Beyond that, though, there was also a strange warmth he felt at Aeleus’s defense; gratitude, perhaps, that Aeleus had been genuine when he said that he believed in Xemnas’s will to change.

And there was something else at what they had said about Isa. That feeling was unignorable, confusing, scratching there in his chest and leaving his stomach feeling like its gravity had been reversed. 

Isa was coming back to Radiant Garden. Away from Lea. And Dilan seemed convinced that it was because of Xemnas.

That thought, Xemnas supposed, ought to make him feel sorry, as well. He was not trying to uproot Isa’s life once again. He was not, as Dilan accused, trying to win Isa over in any sense beyond scrounging for the forgiveness he did not deserve. And yet… the barest glimmer of hope, the possibility of another chance with the man to whom he owed his heart, stuck like honey to his ribs. 

He did not get much else done for the remainder of the day.

The next morning in the laboratory, Even mentioned it offhandedly. “By the way,” he said, fingers clacking away at his keyboard, “Isa will be back in the castle today—and will be here for the foreseeable future. Don’t cause him any trouble. He has dealt with enough of it as it is.”

Xemnas’s hand stalled across his notebook, leaving a blot of ink on his diagram. He feigned ignorance of the conversation he had overheard the day prior, despite the fact that it had been occupying the majority of his thoughts since. “Is that so?” he said quietly, still peering down at the paper. “It remains as I told you. I have no intent to trouble him.”

“Intent is one thing. Action is another.” Even turned to him. “From what I’ve gathered, his last few days have been… challenging. See to it that the ones that follow are not.”

Xemnas felt his brows furrow, and he looked up at Even. The thought of Isa struggling in this new life… he did not like it. The man had struggled enough, and too often by Xemnas’s own hand. “Has something happened to him?”

“I cannot say for certain.” Even simply cleared his throat and went back to his work. 

There was a strange sensation in Xemnas’s chest, a bubbling, agitated upwelling of undeterminable emotion. What had Isa been continuing to face? He thought, too, of what Dilan had said—that Isa was coming here, was leaving Lea’s side, because of Xemnas. Was he truly? And, if so, was it out of fear or desire? Was that decision what was bringing Isa grief, or was there something beyond it that Xemnas was blind to?

“...You seem to have grown fond of him, where you were not in the past,” Xemnas dared to remark amidst his tumultuous thoughts, resting his hand on the page. A sketch for the new waterworks to be built over the site of Villain’s Vale once it was demolished.

Even arched an eyebrow, making one of his intense green eyes look significantly larger than the other. “What an interesting observation.” He tapped his fingers on the keys. “Recompletion has its way of changing sentiments. As I am sure you know by now, he and I worked together closely when it came to our actions behind the Real Organization’s back.” From his tone, it sounded as though he was testing Xemnas’s reaction. Did Xemnas grudge them? Was he embittered by their betrayal? 

The answer was no, but Even was likely not certain of that fact.

The scientist leveled his gaze at Xemnas. “I was able to see the man he has grown into. A good man. Far from both the sneaky little street rat and the cold lieutenant he once was.” Even seemed to be measuring his words, his voice growing more somber as he finished. “He struggles, as we all do. But I have wanted him to find freedom in this new life.”

Xemnas listened in still, contemplative silence, avoiding Even’s eye contact. Saïx had not been free. He had been chained to Xemnas, to the Organization, to grand wills beyond himself. He had made valiant use of what leverage he had, to be certain, but he had been dealt a bad hand while Xemnas himself could see all the cards. 

Now, Xemnas wondered if memories were what chained Isa, as they did Xemnas himself. Memories of what had and hadn’t been, what could and could not be. Memories of so many of his life’s years spent wishing for a heart, for a normal, human life, longing for nothing but the validation of his existence. Memories of what was done in pursuit of those goals. 

Amidst it all, they had both been puppets; Xemnas had been Xehanort’s, and Saïx, Xemnas’s own. Was it cruel of him to hope they could still find one another again, this time on level footing? To hope that their mutual desire for companionship might one day come to beat in one another’s chests? 

He looked out over the former Heartless manufactory, exhaling quietly through his nose. “I have always known his potential was immense. I, too, would see his life’s wishes fulfilled at last.” 

Even grunted. “Then, as I said, see to it that you don’t trouble him.” He went back to examining his data on the computer screen. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. You ought to keep your distance, for his sake.”

Xemnas’s fingers flexed atop his notebook, and his mouth twitched downward, brows dipping. He felt something inside himself bristle at those words; a childishness, like the desire to stomp one’s foot in frustration. Was he to scarcely exist in this life, too? To yet again be little more than another tool, kept away in a drawer when it wasn’t in use? Would he ever have the right to wish for any other fate? 

“I mean no more harm to him, nor to any of you. I swear it.” His hands rose, supinated, and he looked down at his empty palms. “I did not see for years what was in front of me. That all of you… I should have held you close. Known you as friends. Protected you. But I did not, and I bear that as a burden I may never be able to diminish.” He met Even’s eyes, hands pressing firm over the dull, aching thud of his heart. “If you—if he—if anyone in this castle wishes not to see me, then I will not impose my presence. Not again. But know that regret is my constant companion. There is nothing more I want than to make up for the time I have lost. The time I have taken." He found his voice trembling slightly, the most delicate, breathy wavering coming to the rasp of his baritone. Passion was such a strange thing. Xemnas could still scarcely believe the effect that pure emotion could have on the body. "I do not wish to be seen as an enemy to be subdued, Even. No longer.”

As Xemnas spoke, Even had straightened back up to face him, a purse to his thin lips. He listened with hands clasped behind his back—a posture seemingly borrowed from Ansem the Wise. When Xemnas finished speaking, Even briefly said nothing, as if to force him to stew amongst his own words. 

At length, he huffed through his long nose. “I didn’t ask for a speech, Xemnas. To set the record straight, I do believe you are being earnest. Everything we have been able to analyze about your heart suggests that your feelings on this matter are genuine. However, what this also indicates is the possibility of your emotions getting away from you, and that can be dangerous when it comes to matters of the heart.” He unclasped his hands, gesturing loosely in the air as he took a few steps around the lab. “Isa is a man who craves the known. The familiar. Things we have had so very little of in these last few months. He doesn’t show it, but he is a fish out of water, and he is only just starting to find his way. I simply think you should let him, without injecting your influence. Even if it’s unintentional.” 

“My influence…?” Xemnas knew he had imposed his will in the past. And Saïx had always been so dutiful, for his own reasons or otherwise.

Even nodded. “The heart is a powerful thing. But I believe Isa is still learning to let his stand on its own.”  

Xemnas was silent for a few long moments, and then he could not resist asking, a thin shimmer of disdain sneaking into his voice. He hadn’t grown guilt-ridden affection for all of his former members. “I would have thought Lea would aid him through any such difficulties.”

“One would think, wouldn’t they?" Xemnas caught a look from the corner of Even’s eye, and he was fairly sure he heard resentment in those words. His eyebrows rose slightly as Even continued. "It appears Lea is not the perfect crutch Isa was hoping for. I cannot say I am too surprised. The man blusters about, playing at newfound nobility as a fresh warrior of light. He prefers to sit upon a glossy veneer of camaraderie rather than sort through his own wrongs. As far as I have been able to discern, it is far easier for him to ignore discomfort than to face it."

Even's chilly tone surprised Xemnas—but he would have been lying if he said he didn’t feel the slightest bit vindicated. He had never liked Axel; not that Xemnas had been able to like much of anything for many years. Yet he had always possessed a particular distaste for the redhead, an all but inherent dislike. Axel was sly and coarse, lacking any sort of refinement in his speech and snark, his attitude tending to be in chronic need of adjustment. However, Xemnas had liked Xigbar, to whom some such descriptions could also easily apply. 

No, there was something else about Axel that rubbed Xemnas the wrong way, and were Xemnas to pinpoint the moment in time that his general animus towards his former eighth member came into starker light, it, too, would be after Saïx developed his new ability. After Saïx drew his eye.

He could recall in crystalline detail the way he had watched from afar as Axel drew away from Saïx, towards the keyblade wielders, abandoning the one with whom he once had a bond that Xemnas could only covet. A friendship. A profound connection.

By his very nature, there had always been a vast, yawning emptiness within Xemnas, but that which gnawed in him most sharply was the absence of what some shard of him remembered friendship to be. The presence, perhaps, of loneliness, some primordial sensation even his chasm of a being could grasp. The connections his body remembered were not his, and would not ever be his, but he had sought them all the same. Even subconsciously, the futile search for Aqua and Ventus had come from more than mere machinations towards the greater plan.

There must have been something like envy that burned in him, then, at the notion that Axel would not only play at friendship with the newest among their number, but that he seemed utterly unappreciative of the memories he was so fortunate to have. Those of another bond. Those of Isa. 

The first time Saïx had come to Xemnas, cleverly suggesting they find their way into bed together, Xemnas had known it was an attempt at manipulation, a means of seizing some kind of control back for himself. Xemnas had not minded. Saïx, just as he, was destined to become little more than a vessel. Why, then, should such an engaging dalliance with his diligent adjutant be denied? If anything, it made it easier to keep an eye on the sharp-witted, cold-eyed man he knew was conspiring behind his back.

But then they began to edge into consistency, those visits. Within the walls of Xemnas’s room, Saïx would let little things slip, often without meaning to—an especially acerbic tone when he spoke of Axel, a deeper scowl over reports turned in by Roxas, a curl of his lip at Xion’s results. Xemnas had known that Saïx was learning to feel again, and he could see that hurt lay at the core of those stifled feelings. Loneliness. Jealousy. The desire to be longed for, to be wanted, to be given meaning. All of it masked with rage, white-hot as blue flame. Xemnas had nursed that negative emotion, believing that it brought unbounded strength. He had not known better. He had never known any different. 

Xemnas had not been able to allow himself to care about what he observed between his Luna Diviner and Axel. Besides, it would have been antithetical to Xehanort’s goals either to foster the regrowth of the broken connection that bled in Saïx’s insides, or to genuinely attempt to provide his wound salve. But he could sneer inwardly at Axel’s foolishness. His betrayal. He could scoff at how easily Axel had given up on one so intelligent, so beautiful, so dedicated; one to whom Xemnas would have clung, had he been in Axel’s place. Those thoughts, of course, came to him regardless of the fact that it was Xemnas himself who had held them all in those places.

Xemnas could not make any of it up to Saïx, then. Not truly. But Axel, in those last days of their Organization, had not been there, and Xemnas had. Even if he had lied. Even if he had led astray. He had been the one to hold Saïx close, to plant kisses at his brow, to listen to his soft breathing through the eternal night of the World That Never Was.

And it was Lea to whom Isa had returned. Of course it was. 

But was Lea truly failing him again?

A brusque huff from Even brought Xemnas back out of his thoughts, and Xemnas finally looked back to him, a subtle smolder having taken root in his orange eyes. “Well. I suppose the specifics are none of our business,” the scientist said brusquely, making a snappy, dismissive flicking motion with his hand. “I merely thought you ought to know of Isa’s arrival in advance. It’s no secret that he seems to matter to you a great deal, as well. So don’t do or say anything that might make whatever sits on his shoulders any heavier.”

Yet again, Xemnas could not quite tell if Even was being contemptuous or considerate. He drew quiet again, peering down absently at his pen and paper as his feelings roiled. “...He does. I will be careful,” he murmured in reply, subdued once again. He resumed his work, consumed by thoughts of the past and of the future, of wants and fears.

What would Isa want most from him, he wondered? Was Xemnas one who could ever offer his former right hand comfort at last? Were Dilan’s suspicions of Isa’s motivations delusions, or did they harbor even a kernel of truth? Ansem, too, had suggested such possibility, and Xemnas was torn between the desire to chase it, to claim for himself even the barest hint of what he so yearned for, and his newfound fear of rejection. Not just rejection—more loss. Though he supposed one could not truly lose what they did not have.

But Isa had been there for his waking. Had spoken to him in soft tones, seen to it that he was no longer kept in a cell, filled the bookshelf in his room. Xemnas wanted to repay that unearned kindness in whatever way he could.

He wanted to repay him for everything.

He was on his way back to his room after having his meek, lonesome dinner. The tower Xemnas had been given to reside in was in a remote part of the castle, quite a walk from most of the other more bustling areas of the place. He could not object to it; he had kept his room remote in the Castle that Never Was, as well, though that was more for the sake of dissuading most of his members from coming to bother him there. Funny, that he now so longed for company.

The recent conversations he had both had and overheard were stuck like burrs in his head, his thoughts rarely drifting far from what Even and Dilan had said about Isa. So when he thought he caught a glimpse of brilliant azure through a doorway as he walked through one of the lesser-used residence wings, he was at first convinced he had imagined it, simply conjuring the image of the one at the forefront of his mind’s meanderings. All the same, it made him stall, his glance lingering on the flash of color that had caught it. 

There, at the room’s windowsill, he saw that it had not been his imagination at all. 

There, he saw Isa, standing tall and upright, blue hair in a cascade down his back as he looked out at the setting sun. 

Xemnas’s heart skipped a beat. He stood there as if frozen in place for what must have been a split second too long, uncertain whether he should continue on his way, leaving Isa unbothered, or greet him as though things were simple. Xemnas had not actively sought him out, so this wasn’t imposing himself upon him, was it? And yet he did not know if Isa would want an appearance from him so suddenly. 

He should have known that Isa’s instincts, honed razor sharp as they were, would not have allotted him the time he would have needed to decide between his whirling thoughts. Isa was far too clever, far too cognizant not to feel eyes on his open back. Sure enough, Isa turned away from the window, and that briefest of moments felt like an eternity. 

He looked tired, his under-eyes dark and his skin paler than normal, and Xemnas found that… made him feel worried. Made him wish to help.

“Isa.” His name reverberated on Xemnas’s tongue, sitting surprisingly comfortably there for one he had scarcely ever called the man by. “I did not realize you were here.”

“Xemnas.” There was a hint of surprise on Isa’s face, but it dissipated more quickly than Xemnas would have expected, one of those graceful hands falling away from where it had been resting on the windowsill. Isa’s green eyes were cool and clear and depthy as a forest spring, and Xemnas could only think that they were so very beautiful. “I only just arrived earlier today.”

There were a few yards between them, and it was as though Xemnas could feel every inch of distance, his callow heart longing to close it, to gaze out the window at Isa’s side once more. But he did not move from where he stood outside of the doorway, aware enough of himself to make certain it did not seem like he was blocking off the exit. “Even mentioned that you intended to return today, but neither where nor when.” His hand idly rose over his chest with a slight cock of his head, and he hoped the gaze he offered was as gentle as he meant it to be. “It is… good to see you again.”   

“Word travels fast, hm?” Xemnas caught a small purse at Isa’s lips, a reappearance of that subtle line of worry between his brows. And then it faded, smoothed away to placidity. He did not smile, that severe look Xemnas remembered set on Isa’s features, but there was a… softness, almost, in his posture, on that scarred face, that made Xemnas feel like his heart might find its way out of his ribcage. “You can come in. Have you been well?”

"Well enough." Xemnas gave an affirmative bow of his head as he entered the room. Isa did not need to know that he was achingly, scaldingly lonely. "I have… found a routine."

There was a faint upward quirk to Isa's lips, and he folded his arms, taking a few steps away from the window—towards Xemnas. "That's good news. Routine helps." 

It was true. Xemnas had always been a creature of habit. Like waiting for a familiar knock on his door at the end of the day back in the Castle That Never Was, the rhythm of clearing his desk as he listened to the lilt of a low voice like water over river stones. "Indeed," he said with an attempt at a smile. He could see a small suitcase in the room, the bed was neatly made, and there were a few things already on the wooden desk against the wall. It looked like a space ready to be lived in. Xemnas cleared his throat. "What of you?"

"I assume Even told you. I'm… after a change of pace." Isa shifted his weight on one leg, casting a glance over his shoulder towards the smear of goldenrod on the horizon that was fading into lavender and lilac. “I haven’t… done as much here as I should have. This place was once my home. I want to have a greater hand in seeing it restored.”

Saïx had always been a terrible liar. As expertly monotone as his deliveries could be, there was an earnesty nested deep within him that made it easy for Xemnas to see through the lies and half-truths he spun so often. It had even tended to endear him further to his Superior, who could not truly worry about the fact that Saïx seemed to move through cycles of trying to work against him. There was a dedication, a driven, twisted nobility to it that he could only respect. 

So Xemnas could tell now, too, that Isa was perhaps not telling the whole truth of his troubles. But he said nothing of that fact, following the man’s gaze out towards the world beyond.

“My own memories of this place long ago are strange,” he mused. “Some of it I recall clearly. Other aspects come to me as though through another’s clouded eyes. I suppose such can be expected from an existence such as mine. It is difficult to pinpoint which origins are most true.” His attention lit back on Isa. “What is it that you most wish to see returned to its former glory?”

Isa seemed briefly surprised by the question, and he walked over to the desk in apparent thought, thumbing along its edge before turning to lean back against it. Saïx had often done the same against Xemnas’s own desk. “I suppose… I miss the fountains. The sound of the water. I spent a lot of time there in my youth.” His words were murmured, distant-sounding. Again, Xemnas could sense there was more Isa was not saying, but he simply listened as Isa peered up at the ceiling. “It was a beautiful world, once. Could I ask what you remember of it?”

“Mm.” Xemnas hummed, sifting through what he could recall, lines blurring between what was Terra’s, what was Xehanort’s, and what was his. “Much of it is mere memory of memory. But I remember… the tremendous brass pipes below the city that fed the gardens. There were many more flowers, back then.” But Terra had only briefly visited the world, and most of Xehanort’s time as an apprentice had been spent lurking within the castle’s walls. In its basement. Xemnas remembered screams, too. He did not want to mention those. 

“Flowers.” A slight smile made a gentle appearance across Isa’s lips, and he closed his eyes. “That’s right.” There was a pause, filled only by a quiet exhalation through Isa’s nose. At last, unfolding his arms, Isa rested the heels of his palms back on the desk behind him, tilting his head to look at Xemnas. This time, his expression was once again unreadable. “Sounds like we’ll be working together again, then.” 

There was an odd lurch within Xemnas’s belly at those words, and he could not quite tell if it was pleasant or not. Xemnas gave a slow blink, not quite having realized that his intense orange gaze had been unwaveringly affixed to the man before him this entire time. It was as though he had been afraid Isa might vanish into thin air if he looked away. “It seems so,” he said, low and quiet, his head tilting downward. “Though I hope you find these circumstances more agreeable than those of our past.”

“It seems that way thus far.” Isa pushed himself up off the desk, going over to close the window. The evening breeze had gotten chilly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Here. In Radiant Garden. Where Xemnas could see him, speak with him. Try to… connect, once more. In whatever way Isa might allow. 

“I am… glad to hear that.” Xemnas stood in this room—Isa’s room?—with a heart that ached for the strange almost-bond that had been its genesis in the Organization, and all he could think was that Isa was here, and Lea was not, and in spite of Even's warnings, Xemnas wanted to try. To try and bring Isa the human life he had yearned for and so long been denied. To be a part of that life. 

He merely did not know where to start.

Looking away at last, he took a step back. “You must be weary from travel. I will let you rest.”

He heard a quiet chuckle. “Yes. Good evening, Xemnas.”

“Good evening, Isa.”

Xemnas offered a bow of his head where he longed to offer more, to earn more, an embrace, even a fleeting touch. But he departed from Isa’s room with their goodbye lingering in the air, returning to his own chambers with the rapid rhythm of his heart incessant in his chest.

So much of what Xemnas chased over the years had been hollow. Hollow goals of his Kingdom Hearts, hollow lies, hollow armor, hollow friendships that were not his. But he did not want this desire to be. He wanted this desire to mean something.

Pain was being human, but so was hope. And Xemnas could not help but bear them both.

Chapter Text

It took some time, of course, to get Isa’s transition in order. The past few days had been agonizing, laden with guilt as he had to keep explaining himself through his decision; first to Lea, then Ienzo and Even, then Roxas and Xion. It had been all he could do not to buckle inward, to resist the temptation to rescind everything he had said and seal himself behind a new impenetrable wall, to put the facade back up and pretend he knew how to be a good-natured, well-balanced man. But he had opened the floodgates, and they weren't ones to be easily closed.

When it came to Roxas and Xion, Isa had had half a mind to simply let Lea explain things to them in whatever way he saw fit. Let him make Isa out to be however selfish or cold or vapid he wished. 

Not that Lea would. Isa knew he wouldn’t. Not even if it was true. 

Besides, it wasn’t as though the two young Keyblade wielders could possibly feel Isa’s absence too harshly. He was an old piece from a different puzzle that didn’t match their picture, a sore thumb they couldn’t quite heal. All the same, Isa ended up feeling that he owed them both a conversation, especially considering how absent he had been of late. And so he gave it to them.

The day before he left, before he slunk back to Radiant Garden with guilt perched like an anxious bird of prey on his shoulders, Isa snaked his way alone through the incessant ochre of Twilight Town’s streets until he reached the old mansion. He came with a peace offering, as he often did—ice cream brought in hand and eye contact carefully, deliberately avoided like a beast's attempt at being non-threatening. Clearing his throat around the tightness that had lodged itself there, hands stuffed in his pockets and gaze averted, he explained in stilted, hushed tones to Roxas and Xion that he would be leaving Twilight Town—leaving Lea, leaving them—to stay in his home world for some time, instead.

They would be far from heartbroken, he was certain. Perhaps it may even be nice for the three of them to gather without Isa again. Just like old times.

But he watched in surprise as Xion's face fell, and Roxas's lips pursed.

“You’re going away?” Xion had asked in something like shock, all wide, sincere blue eyes, delicate hands clasped tightly together in front of her chest. 

“Not for good,” Isa murmured, twisting the ice cream stick in his hand to avoid its melting droplets. “But for a while. I have some… personal matters to attend to on my own.”

Xion looked… so very sad. Isa hadn't expected her to be upset like this. It was Isa, not Lea nor Roxas, going away, after all. The man with the same face, same voice, same scar as the Nobody who had terrorized her for most of her existence. The man who was the Nobody who had terrorized her—Saïx's cruelty couldn't have existed without Isa's fears to feed from, and Isa couldn't go a day without Saïx’s incessant jealous claws still scratching away at his insides. His scant efforts thus far could hardly make up for the months of misery he had inflicted, just as his weak attempts to reassure the pair now that he knew what he was doing could hardly leave any of them with any confidence. 

All the same, Xion looked morose at the notion of his departure, and even Roxas appeared subdued, his head cocked to the side in something like confusion. Uncertainty, perhaps. Isa wouldn’t blame him for being wary of the former adjutant's decisions. 

Roxas took a bite of ice cream, swallowing slowly and adjusting his weight to one hip as a thumb slipped through his belt loop.

“Is it because of Xemnas?” 

The boy’s question, blunt as a butter knife speared through his ribs, took Isa off guard, his spine stiffening and jaw going slack as he attempted to formulate a response. He could lie. Indignantly ask where they had gotten such an idea. Say he would not be away for long.

He had always been dreadful at lying.

“Did Lea tell you?” was all he eventually murmured, pale face shielded by the tall collar of his jacket.

Xion shook her head, the frown on her face informing Isa that he had already said all they needed to know. Still, she replied, “Naminé. We talk a lot.”

“Naminé…?” Defined lines creased the intersection of his scar. “I haven’t seen her since the island. I did not realize she knew, as well.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of a recluse, so I’m not too surprised you guys haven’t bumped into each other,” said Roxas, and Isa winced at what sounded like an added sharpness in his voice. Roxas shrugged, then sighed. “But I guess she does travel a lot with Mickey and Riku. Word gets around. She told us a little while ago that Vexen―I mean, Even―got Xemnas a replica. But she made a big deal of… not making a big deal out of it, so we haven’t brought it up. ‘Til now.”

Xion squirmed, fidgeting with one of the frills of her sleeves. “It’s not our business, what you do―especially if you think it’s right. But you’re our friend now, Isa. It makes me… nervous, knowing you’re gonna be back around him. Especially when it feels like you just got back.”

Isa felt cornered, abandoned ice cream he hadn't wanted melting into drips of sticky blue on his fingers. He couldn’t help but wonder if Xion was worried more about his safety, or about Xemnas’s influence turning Isa back into the man who had made her life a waking nightmare. And what could he say to possibly explain himself? To reassure her? That he knew Xemnas more intimately than any other here, despite the man’s sins; that he saw change within his former superior, a desire to change, a yearning for genuine connection that Isa recognized from his own mirror? That he understood?

“The apprentices had their reasons. As I have mine,” Isa managed, and he immediately loathed the coldness he heard having spread its frost through his voice. It wasn’t a coldness meant to cut, nor even to sting, and he himself knew that―it was meant to protect, a defense mechanism that kept his face flat and his voice level and his thoughts guarded. But it was cold nonetheless, and these two young people deserved warmth. Goodness. Light. 

He watched as doubt flickered across their faces. Xion especially seemed to retreat inward, and Isa immediately felt his heart ache. Another man, perhaps, one who knew properly how to give affection, to be palatable and kind and good, might have brought the two in for a hug of reassurance. Would have offered squeezes on their shoulders, at the very least. But Isa was stuck still, a chilly statue from head to toe save for the slightest of tremors in the hand holding the familiar popsicle stick. 

“Everything will be fine. I need to do this. For—” Isa swallowed thickly, cheeks and neck feeling hot. “For me.”

There were a few beats of silence, and Isa felt every one of them like an uncomfortable stone dropping in his belly. And then Xion approached him, steps hesitant. She carefully took his hand in both of hers, looking up at him with big blue eyes that felt like they were peering into his very soul. 

“Do whatever you need to do to be happy, Isa. You haven’t been happy in a really long time."

Isa froze.

Anything hateful she could have said would have cut him less than that.

It would have been so much easier if they were angry. If they admitted that they had hated him all along. That they were relieved he was going. The only thing harder than being unwanted, he found, was being wanted and knowing he didn’t deserve it.

Isa had to look away, biting hard on the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep composed. He swallowed around the rough knot in his throat, and with some effort mustered a crooked upturn of his lips.

“I’ll try, Xion. But just for you.”

Xion gave him a soft smile in return, and he felt Roxas lightly punch his arm. 

“Get it together, man. You're always so uptight. If taking a loner vacation is what you need to finally relax, then take one, already.” Roxas laced his fingers behind his head with a slight sway from side to side, and from his tone it seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood.

Isa had to weakly chuckle, little more than a few staccato bursts of air through his nose. He looked between the two young people, and once again could not believe he once so loathed them. No, he never truly loathed them—it was himself that he couldn't stand. He was far from forgiving himself for making that fact their problem throughout their first year of life. But he treasured the forgiveness they appeared to have granted him, instead, sensical or not though it was.

There was a moment's hesitation, heavy with things he wasn't sure how to say. Then, finally, Isa mustered the courage to pull them both into a delicate embrace. His hands were cautious as they lit on the pair's shoulders, but gentle, nudging them both inward the way he had seen Lea do before. It was an immense relief when they leaned in against him in return, grounding senses of pressure against either of his sides. 

“I am… grateful for you both. Very much so.” His voice came out even quieter than usual, and he cleared his throat to strengthen it. “Keep an eye on Lea while I'm not around, will you?”

“Duh. That's our job, anyway.” Roxas shot a lopsided grin up at him, and Isa felt Xion squeeze him back tight.

“We trust you, Isa,” she said softly. “We'll see you soon, okay?”

Isa nodded as he gingerly let them go, though he did not think he could bring himself to come back to Twilight Town for a while. “Thank you, Xion. Roxas.”

He bade them goodbye, thinking about forgiveness. 

When the day had come for Isa to leave, he was surprised, at first, by how well Lea seemed to have taken things. That morning, Lea had seemed for the most part like himself, if somewhat more subdued. He had slept in like normal, greeted Isa in the morning, eaten a simple breakfast and told Isa to “just quit stressing out so much.” He put up a good front―he had always been surprisingly adept at hiding his true feelings, the same way a feline knew how to hide its wounds. Isa might have believed it all a little more were it not for the red-rimmed eyes he caught Lea sporting after stepping out from the shower. The sight had made Isa’s throat close up, and all he could wonder as Lea brushed off his concern was when will we stop hurting each other?

Isa stood ready to depart with his meager few belongings all stuffed into the small suitcase he had come here with in the first place. Lea bade him what was promised to be a temporary goodbye, clapping him on the arm with a wide smile that an ashamed part of Isa wished better hid the hurt in those green eyes. 

“Come back soon, okay?”

Isa swore that he would, and it was not a lie if he had the proper intentions, was it?

Lea was always swearing to bring his friends back. The poor man seemed to have his work cut out for him. But Isa's promise was sincere. He didn't think he would ever be able to live without Lea. Not truly. The moon could not exist as it did without the sun, after all. But there were simply too many phases, too many changing orbits for every sky to hold them both together at once. Least of all a sky where the moon never shone.

Thus Isa left for Radiant Garden once more, and he felt the door close behind him with a new finality that made his bones feel cold.

He had not felt so raw since first waking after his second recompletion. Isa hadn’t realized just how much he had callused himself over, buried himself beneath scar tissue that still festered underneath because he thought that made him safe. But here he was with the shell he so carefully built split apart once more, the badly-set bones of his life re-broken. Was it selfish of him to hope they might finally heal properly this time, at long last? Was that too much to ask for a man like him? 

All Isa could hope was that he might find a place to slot himself back in Radiant Garden. And if he didn’t, perhaps he would just keep looking.

By the time he actually reached his new room in his old home world, Isa had already stumbled through enough uncomfortable conversations in the last twenty-four hours for a lifetime. It was only fitting, he supposed, that the last person to whom he spoke before going to bed had been no one other than the ultimate catalyst for his decision.

Xemnas, with his messy hair and doleful honey-hued eyes, had appeared in Isa’s doorway, and had looked at him like Isa was the one who had hung the moon in the sky; with reverence, awe, perhaps even a little fear. Xemnas had looked at him like Isa himself was the moon in the sky, and had spoken to him softly. Hopefully. Earnestly.

It made Isa’s heart ache horribly.

Why was it that he only seemed capable of wanting things once he no longer had them? He did not fully realize how much Subject X had mattered to him until he lost her. He had taken humanity for granted until it was stripped from him; only once it was gone had he chased after it like a rabid dog. It was not until distance crept between Axel and himself that he tried digging his claws back in, uncaring of the blood they drew. Only after he had been a monster to Roxas and Xion did he want to earn their trust. And now that he was once again human, now that he had a life that should by all accounts feel normal, he was unable to let go of all else that had molded him, for better or worse. 

For the greater part of a decade, all Saïx had wanted was to go back to feeling the way he had when he was sixteen, when he was infatuated with his one and only friend, when he did not truly know what it meant to hurt. But that boy was long gone. Saïx had been reared from his ashes, and Isa now stood on the uneven earth left behind, weary and uncertain and harrowed by too many aches and pains to fully untangle. And yet again, he found himself wanting only now that it was the wrong time, the wrong thing, the wrong way to want.

There was a part of him that whispered that some kind of fulfillment was only just around the corner. He had seen the way Xemnas gazed at him, listened to the familiar weight of regret in his voice. Isa could go after him right here and now, climb up a flight of stairs to his room once more, lay claim to the man’s lap as he had so many times in the past. He could insist that it was an echo of the past and nothing more, stress relief to dispel the tension that crackled between them; that it was an experiment in indulgence and wouldn’t happen again. Or he could lie with him all night and all morning, too; could finally see what their old dance felt like with hearts hammering away in their breasts; could let himself be embraced in the familiar arms that he had never meant to fall so deeply into. He could beg Xemnas to tell him just how much Isa meant to him in this new life—if it was nothing but lust, or convenience, or ill-conceived familiarity. He could demand to know if it was more. 

But Isa would do no such things. He could not stomach being more selfish than he already had been. He could not do that to Lea. 

The sunset he had been watching had disappeared beyond the horizon, and Xemnas had disappeared beyond his doorway, and Isa was left alone in his new room with nothing but his own thoughts for company. 

He found himself grateful to Even over the course of the next few days. The scientist kept Isa busy, somehow managing to conjure sheaf after sheaf of old documents that needed to be sorted through or page after page of city development propositions for him to look over for errors or logistical issues. It had always been easiest for Isa to deal with his problems by burying his nose in work from dawn to dusk, and it appeared Even also knew that fact well. 

Working most often in his room or the library, Isa kept to himself for the most part, putting all of his focus and energy into any duty he could take on. Ostensibly, it was for the sake of Radiant Garden and the Restoration Committee, for the sake of making up for the past. But Isa knew the truth. He was keeping himself distracted. If he let himself lull, it was far too easy to get lost in a swan dive of self-doubt, and he would have even less of an excuse for the scant correspondence he had managed to provide those he cared about in Twilight Town.

But busy though he was, he did not cross paths with Xemnas as often as he thought he might. From time to time, they would catch one another’s eyes in the hallway, or meet briefly when Isa stopped by the laboratory to check in with the apprentices. On those occasions, Xemnas would greet him softly with a bow of his head and ask if he was well, but seemed to keep himself at arm’s length, often averting those big, somber eyes. What few conversations there were never seemed to linger long before Xemnas would excuse himself, thanking Isa for his time awkwardly almost as though they were mere business acquaintances.

Xemnas was avoiding him. Isa was sure of it. And though he didn’t wholly know what to make of that at this point, it wasn’t as though he himself was any better. Each time he heard his name rumble forth in that deep baritone, each time he caught Xemnas’s gaze lingering when he thought Isa was not looking, he felt a defined uptick in his pulse, a quickening of his heartbeat that he dealt with by tamping his feelings down and curtailing anything he himself might have to say.

It would be too easy to work together. To get to know one another in this life as well as they had in the last. All it would take would be a burst of courage to pin Xemnas in a corner, to force them both to speak plainly, to determine where all of their feelings truly lay. But it wasn’t as though frank honesty or emotional literacy had ever been either of their strong suits.

Isa wondered if Xemnas’s distance was kept out of guilt and self-flagellation, as Isa’s was. He wondered if Xemnas, too, struggled under the scrutiny of so many eyes on him. He wondered if Xemnas still felt tied to Isa, as Isa did to him, or if the former Superior wanted only to move on from the past. But Isa could not bring himself to pursue any answers. If Lea saw how easy it would be for Isa’s heart to reach out to Xemnas’s—well. Isa had done his oldest friend enough damage already. 

A week or so after he had taken up residence in the castle, Isa headed down to take up his work in the library, as had become his routine. There was a long desk in one of the library's corners, remote but within enough sight of the windows for good light, at which Isa often sat as he read or sorted through files. He made his way there that morning, and was surprised to find a large, slender vase newly perched atop the desk, its mouth laden with multi-colored blooms that appeared to be from the garden outside. They had been gathered into a simple, but pretty bouquet, and there looked to be a small note card tied to the white ribbon keeping the stems together. Curious, Isa peeked at it, lifting it enough to check both sides. The front-facing side was blank, but the back simply read, “Luna”. 

Isa blinked. 

It was an odd coincidence. But he supposed that Luna was a common enough woman’s name, wasn’t it? The flowers must have been left by or for someone else who worked in the library. 

Leaving the vase in its spot, he sat on the other end of the desk, not wanting to be obtrusive in case someone came by to collect them. However, though more than a few people came in and out over the hours Isa sat there, no one stopped by nor even seemed to pay the flowers much mind. 

Once he had gotten through the bulk of his work for the day, he got up and stretched, looking over to the burst of color adorning the drab desk. He brushed a hand over a few of the blooms, their gentle fragrance wafting pleasantly through the bookish air of the library. It was a shame, he thought. 

Hm. Maybe she’ll come by tomorrow.

He gathered up what he had been working on, planning to finish it after dinner, and left the library to grab something to eat from the dining hall. As he slithered through one of the castle’s long hallways, however, he heard someone speak up behind him.

“So you’re still here after all. I didn't think it would take so little time.”

The tell-tale dusty gravel of Dilan’s voice reached Isa’s ears, and he turned to see the guardsman leaning against the wall, face stern and impassive. 

“You seem to have quite a lot of thoughts on what I do and don't do,” Isa replied quietly, folding his arms. “But, yes. I plan to stay here for some time.”

Dilan snorted. “It’s ‘some time,’ now, is it? I take it you’ve a reason of some kind.”

Isa’s mouth tightened. “Do I need a reason to come back to help my home world?”

“When your interest only coincides with a certain someone all but coming back from the dead? Yes.” Dilan was holding one of his lances, and he idly tapped the handle of it against his palm. “You’ve never been quite as subtle as you think, boy.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would say it sounds like you resent my being here for any reason.” Isa’s tone grew cold, and he broke eye contact to look off down the hallway. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any sort of jabs of this kind today, deserved or otherwise. “In that case, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Isa turned to resume his walk to the library, but was stopped by the lance being outstretched in front of him. His lip curled in irritation. 

“Do you need something, Dilan?”

“I need to know you’re not back to cause trouble.” Dilan cocked his head to the side, voice not raised, but firm. “I’m not a fool, Isa. You didn’t give a damn about this world until he came back into it.” 

Isa pushed the shaft of the lance out of the way, facing Dilan again. He could feel his temper flaring—in no small part because of the way the man’s words stung. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Not accusing. Warning.” Dilan rested the butt of the lance back on the floor, letting it hold some of his weight as he stared down Isa, violet eyes calculating and severe. “I think Xemnas is up to something. And you two were always quite the team.” Bitterness edged the man’s words. “All I think is that you ought to watch your step, Isa. You’ve been led astray once before.”

The distrust and suspicion in Dilan’s voice wormed its way under Isa’s skin far more easily than he would have liked, and he felt his hackles rising. Part of him was vindicated by someone finally speaking their distaste of him to his face. The other part was defensive, because if he was going to be accused of something, it ought to be one of the many things he was actually guilty of.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying that if any danger comes to Radiant Garden,” Dilan murmured, stepping past him, “I know who to blame.” With that, the guardsman left, stalking off down the hall and leaving Isa feeling simultaneously too cold and too hot. 

He was aware that Dilan had never quite trusted him. It wasn’t as though Isa had ever done much in his life to earn that trust. And it didn’t take great powers of perception to note that Dilan was not overly enthused by Xemnas’s return. But did he truly think Xemnas had malignant intentions once again? And worse—had he been given reason to?

Isa found he deeply did not want to believe that.

The thought festered away inside him as he ate his dinner. The recompleted Xemnas he had met had been an open book, and though Isa got the feeling that even Xemnas did not fully know how to read all of its pages, Isa did not believe that any of them harbored ill will towards any of the Organization’s former members or the worlds they inhabited. 

It could very well have been that Dilan was just trying to get under his skin. Isa knew Xemnas. He knew that if he dug deeper beyond the surface level conversations they had mutually allowed over the last week, he would be able to tell in an instant if something was truly amiss. Wouldn’t he?

Or perhaps he was just looking for an excuse to have a longer conversation with him again. What a strange thing to miss—those twining, enigmatic conversations. But Isa somehow missed them, all the same.

Regardless of what his own intentions truly were, he found himself loading up a second tray of food and making the first trek back to Xemnas’s room since he had returned to Radiant Garden. Carefully balancing the tray with one hand and taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. A few long moments passed without a response, so he tried his old method of knocking once more and announcing, “It’s Isa.” 

When he was once again met with no response, he should have turned back around the way he came. This was absurd. Surely Dilan’s confrontation was little more than grudge-induced paranoia. Isa was sure of that, and sure that he himself was responding irrationally—likely just the way the guardsman hoped he would, if Dilan’s bearing towards him had been anything to go by. 

And yet Isa’s hand found its way to the handle of Xemnas’s door, and found it unlocked. So he slipped inside, uncomfortably aware of his own racing pulse.

He did not know what he had expected, nor even what he may have feared. But there was nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. Indeed, Xemnas was not there. The room was mostly tidy beyond a few articles of clothing left on the chair, and there were a few books left on the desk. It wasn't the first time Isa had entered a room of Xemnas's and waited for him there. This was no different. 

But it was. 

Isa ignored the voice in his head telling him to leave, not to bother with whatever it was that he was doing. He set the tray of food down on Xemnas's desk, and he tried to imagine his former Superior here. Did Xemnas ever cry here in this room, he wondered? Did he laugh when he read a clever passage from a novel? Did he feel as lonely as Isa did? Perhaps even more so?

Isa looked at the books on the desk. He did not remember bringing these ones. They looked like fantasy tales of some kind, certain pages dog-eared or otherwise bookmarked. There was even a popular magazine set neatly off to one side. Isa did not think he could recall Xemnas ever reading magazines before. Are you trying to be more human?

The room smelled like him, too, Isa noticed. Just slightly. Saïx's nose had never been quite as powerful as Zexion's, but just as Ienzo had retained some of his Nobody's heightened senses, so, too, had Isa. Perhaps it was residual from the animalistic instincts that came with Berserk. And besides, he had spent enough nights with his face buried in the crook of Xemnas's neck to remember what he smelled like. There was… a strange nostalgia to it. A comfort that stemmed from the familiarity, if nothing else. 

He didn't know why he did it. A moment of weakness, perhaps. But he found himself taking one of Xemnas's shirts off of the back of the desk chair. He glanced back at the door, and then he brought the shirt up to his face, the fibers of it soft against his chin. And it smelled like him. 

Closing his eyes, he remembered—remembered those times all he had wanted to do was bite and claw and scratch; those times he had wanted to bring his claymore down on everyone in the castle; those times he had felt so achingly lonely and forgotten. He remembered how he had assuaged those feelings, how he had found comfort in the last place he ever should have, how he had sought the comfort of Xemnas's oddly gentle gaze and oddly passionate touch. He remembered being unable to keep himself from going back even long after his original plans were little more than dust, because he remembered where he found the only semblance of feeling wanted during those final years. Even if it had been amidst other lies, that, at least, had proven more true than Isa ever thought it would. 

He put the shirt back down hurriedly. Already, he had all but forgotten why he was here in the first place. It was a fitting predicament, he supposed, given his track record. 

He gave a rough exhale, peering off out Xemnas's open window. He ought to go outside. Clear his head. It felt like he had been doing nothing but winding himself up into knots for weeks. He figured it must be catching up with him. 

He went to gather up the tray he had brought, not intending to leave any sign that he was here. But just as he took it back in hand, his whole body went stiff at a sudden sound behind him.

The door had opened.

Xemnas stood there, wearing a look of genuine surprise.

“Isa?”

Chapter Text

The flowers were still there on the desk. 

From his tentative observations, Xemnas knew Isa frequented that particular spot in the library. He would not have dared to enter the man's room uninvited, so he had supposed Isa's preferred workstation might be a fine enough spot to leave his attempt at a gesture. After one of his afternoons spent aiding Aeleus in the garden, Xemnas had offered to continue the work after the guardsman had to return to his other duties. He used half of that time to carefully pick a few of the blooms from patches of the gardens where they would not be overmissed. Arranging them as best he could with a ribbon and vase he had found in a closet, he left only a moniker on the note that would, he assumed, indicate the intended recipient most centrally to that very recipient, and less so to any others. He then left the flowers there on the library desk in the early hours of the morning, meaning to be seen as little as possible when doing so.

It was perhaps a foolish thought, he supposed, but there had been thought behind it.

Xemnas knew all too well just how deep Saïx’s desire for humanity had run. It was something the Superior himself had long had no true concept of understanding. How could he know with any real acuity what lay on the other side of his non-existence when all he was familiar with were echoes of anger, hate, bitterness? He did not know what depths there were to plumb when it came to the vastness of human experience. He did not know that there was strength to be found in joy and hope and love, because he had never experienced such things for himself. Nor had he ever tried. There had been no point, he had thought; not knowing what was destined for himself and his companions. 

But he had known that Saïx longed for it. He knew intimately that all Saïx had ever craved under those cold eyes and sharp teeth and sour words was normalcy, affection, feeling unequivocally like he belonged. Saïx had yearned so dearly to know how it felt to be wanted, to be happy, to know all there was to know about the pushing and pulling of a human heart. He had wanted a normal life.

Something Xemnas had kept from him. 

Even after Saïx had begun to matter—truly matter, to him, not just to Xehanort's plans—Xemnas had kept that from him. But he had not seen any other means of recourse. He had not bothered to look for further recourse, finding no purpose in fighting the ultimate fate their hands had all been dealt. He could not muster any urge in himself strong enough to fight it, not when he knew how to feel so little. And perhaps there had also been a part of him, locked away deep inside, yet selfish as he always had been, that did not want to face the end alone.

All of this left not a moment of Xemnas's new life unlaced with regret, not a moment that he did not curse the choices he did and did not make. But he did not wish to be complacent this time, to simply accept the worst possible outcome as inevitable once again. He had failed for far too long when it came to cherishing his companions as he should have learned to, and he had failed for far too long when it came to giving Saïx the humanity he had so desperately craved. Though there was far too much time lost ever to make up for, what else was there to do now beyond try? 

Troubles seemed to have found their way back onto Isa's strong shoulders, and though Xemnas did not know the specifics, he wanted to help him, this time. Even if it was small. So here, a week since Isa had returned to Radiant Garden, Xemnas had attempted to extend a humble overture to him. One simple and human, and one that he hoped would convey some manner of the feelings he bore, even if it was all filtered through the respectful distance he had been so carefully maintaining. Friendship, guilt, apology, affection—Xemnas had read multiple accounts of such things being communicated by a gift of flowers, and Isa had smiled at the thought of them the night he came back. 

His hope had been that Isa would see them, and would know, if nothing else, that he was thought of. 

When Xemnas next caught a glimpse of them in the evening, however, the bundle of blossoms did not look to have been moved all day. It was easy enough to come up with reasons why. Perhaps Isa had not been here today, after all. Perhaps he had not deemed them important enough to examine. Perhaps he did not want any such thing that may have come from Xemnas. Perhaps he did see them, and had simply intended to leave them there for one reason or another. 

Regardless of what the case may have been, there sat the flowers, unbothered, and Xemnas felt… well, he was still not very good at deciphering what he felt, especially when he was feeling many things all at once. There was disappointment. Lingering hope. Embarrassment. Uncertainty. Doubt of several kinds. It didn’t altogether feel good, but at the same time, he was not yet sure just how much he regretted his attempt at action. That, he supposed, remained to be seen. 

Isa was not there, and the flowers were there yet still, and there was a familiar unsteady sensation in his belly that left him not especially interested in eating dinner. So he stole away back to his tower for bed, instead. 

He had far from expected his room to already be occupied. Further still had he been from expecting to find the figure standing near his desk there, looking like a lovely deer caught in headlights.

Isa's name lingered where it had fallen from his tongue, and Xemnas's hand fell from his doorknob while his heart fell into his belly. 

Isa’s whole body had gone rigid as a corpse. Lips pursing, he did his best to smooth over his demeanor despite having very nearly been caught with an even redder hand than he had now. It was hardly the first time he had been caught alone in Xemnas’s room if they were counting their lives before, but had it been only a split second earlier… Augh. His arms folded tight over his chest, and he nodded like he hadn’t very nearly been found with his nose buried in his former boss’s shirt. “Xemnas.” What to say? He averted his face enough for his mouth to be hidden behind his collar. “Forgive my intruding all of a sudden. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“Then forgive my surprise, in return.” Xemnas stepped into the room and away from his doorway, leaving it open. His eyes darted briefly up and down Isa, his expression still somewhere between surprise and shock. “Have you need of me?”

“No, I…” Isa felt warmth in his cheeks, but he set his jaw, pushing his discomfort aside and conjuring up a different excuse than I came because interrogating you was an excuse to see you. “...I brought dinner for you. Even mentioned that you haven't been eating again.”

Xemnas’s eyes met his, and Isa could tell in an instant that his former Superior could still see through one of his lies from a mile away. But all Xemnas did was shake his head. “You need not take such matters into your busy hands, Isa. I am fine.” Xemnas’s right hand rose to rest over his left breast, his head tilting to the side—a familiar gesture of his. “You are… certain there is nothing more of which you wish to speak to me?”

Isa’s thoughts raced, more scrambled than his usual level-headedness would allow. Though he wasn’t certain exactly what he wanted to ask, he was here now, and if it would be awkward to stay, it would be even more so if he immediately left. He supposed they couldn’t continue this act of going nowhere forever. “It's been awhile since we've spoken much at all,” Isa eventually murmured, his voice low and reserved.  “...Yes. I did want to talk to you.” About what Dilan had said, about who Xemnas was, about who Isa was, about the past and the future and everything else. Though Isa doubted they would manage to get through even a fraction of it all today.

At his words, a look Isa hadn’t expected passed over Xemnas’s face—his eyebrows dipped inward, and those soft-looking lips pressed into a line with what sounded like a quiet grunt. “I apologize if I presumed overmuch.” Xemnas bowed his head, and there was a pinched, stilted quality to his voice that Isa did not recognize. “I… had thought you may like the flowers.”

“What?” Isa’s tone came out sharper than he intended, his surprise making the word drop from him like a thud. The flowers? Those flowers? “You left those?”

Xemnas swallowed, and Isa could not recall any other time when he had seen the man looking embarrassed. “I did. You have seemed… troubled, these past few days. I thought perhaps they might…” He made a loose gesture with his hands, appearing to be thoroughly examining a whorl in the hardwood floor rather than looking at Isa. “Lift your spirits.”

Xemnas’s hands gathering up flowers, of all things, was an image that Isa struggled to wrap his mind around. Yet at the same time, the fact that Xemnas had done so with him in mind made something in his chest yawn open and ache. Isa’s expression was flat and unreadable for a moment—and then he could not help but laugh, a quiet chuckle that bubbled forth from him unbidden.

“I thought it was an odd coincidence. The name on the tag.” He relaxed his arms down at his sides once more, smoothing the front of his jacket on the way. “I thought they were for someone else.”

“Mmh.” Xemnas was not quite squirming—he had never been the type to squirm—but he did look like his clothes were all suddenly fitting too tight. “I didn’t want to draw any attention to you that you did not want.”

Oh, if you only knew.

Isa leveled his gaze at Xemnas. “It was kind of you.”

He himself had always struggled when it came to being kind. He felt even more keenly aware of it just after he reawoke the second time, finding himself snappish, irritable, distant, and generally unfit for human consumption. But he had tried. He wasn’t sure just how much periodically bringing ice cream to the clock tower and managing to attend social events could be called kind—but he had tried, even when it hurt. Even when it didn’t come naturally to him. Perhaps Xemnas felt the same way.

Xemnas adjusted his posture, taking up the poise that had always reminded Saïx of a dancer. “I am not well-practiced in such things, but I am… glad to hear you think so.” He offered a slight, plaintive smile, and appeared to be about to go on before clearing his throat instead, as if to clear the air and avoid the topic further. “You wished to speak?” 

Though the answer was yes, Isa's thoughts were now an even more jumbled mess. He stalled before replying by taking a few steps over to the window, looking out of it as if the view of the horizon might make communication come easier. “You've been keeping to yourself a lot.” 

“It has been asked of me.” Xemnas's tone was flat and free from resentment, but he spoke rather gingerly. “I have yet to earn the company of others.”

It was a strange answer, but that was far from unlike Xemnas. Isa frowned. “Asked by whom?”

“Precautioned may be a better word,” Xemnas murmured, taking a few steps past Isa over to his desk and stacking the books there into a neat pile, covering the magazine. “I am, understandably, still not the most welcome of presences in this castle.”

“None of us are. Or at least none of us should be.” Isa looked away from the window when he heard Xemnas move, and his words were slightly clipped. “But the rest of us have been given the freedom to explore our humanity—to do with it as we see fit. Make our own choices. The way the other apprentices chose to bring you back, and the way I chose to return here.” He spoke slowly, his tone purposefully ambiguous, and took a step towards Xemnas. “How do you feel without that same freedom?”

That brought a complicated look to Xemnas's face. In the Organization, his face had also been expressive, but most often in a way that felt like a practiced actor in a theater. Now, his expressiveness looked to be beyond his control. “I will accept it, for as long as it is deemed necessary.”

Isa moved again, the pair of them now standing near either end of the desk. If Xemnas bore any ulterior motive, any illicit plans, surely Isa would be able to see a flicker of it if he pressed a little more. 

“Why?”

Xemnas looked stiff, though whether it was from Isa's approach or his inquiries, Isa couldn't say. “ ‘Why?’ “

“Yes.” Isa placed his hand atop the pile of books on the desk, attention focused on Xemnas. “Why don't you simply go after whatever you want again rather than waiting for acceptance that may or may not come? Surely you're still in possession of some formidable powers.” He wanted to know. Wanted to know if any thoughts had even crossed Xemnas's mind. If there was a chance of Dilan being right. 

Xemnas's orange eyes were wide, but he was holding Isa's insistent gaze this time rather than looking away. “Isa…” 

“You can tell me.” One more step forward, enough so that Isa could catch the subtle smell of the soap Xemnas must have used to bathe. “How you truly feel about all of this.” Please, please tell me.

Warmth appeared to be present on Xemnas's cheeks, and his pupils were dilated, hands lax at his sides. He inhaled, long and slow. “It does not matter how I feel. Not now.”

“What if I said it does?” They were so close that Isa could see a few new delicate lines that had etched themselves into the corners of Xemnas's eyes. It was almost refreshing, playing this game of back-and-forth needling again. Isa felt he could be bold with Xemnas—that he didn't need to worry about oh-so-carefully defanging himself, unlike with everyone else. Now, he could press exactly however much he wanted, with only himself as limitation. “Tell me, Xemnas.”

Xemnas's lips parted slightly, and he looked so tired. But he was not shying away from the way Isa was staring him down. Then, at length, he spoke. “I feel… alone. And I feel… pain, knowing I have only myself to blame.” His words came hesitant and labored, as though he was fighting to be able to speak them, and he pressed his palms over his chest, one hand over the other, shaking his head from side to side. “I feel lost, not knowing if I can ever make things right with my former companions. With you.” His eyebrows had furrowed upward, making him look like a beaten puppy, and Isa's heart twinged in spite of itself. “But I also…” He took a deep breath, as though he was steeling himself to continue. “Feel hope. Hope that I may not always feel this way, should I continue on. Hope that I might… call you my friends, once more. This time, truly.” He chuckled, and it was a soft, sad sound as he turned away, seeming to have reached his limit of eye contact. “Perhaps I am a fool.”

Isa's eyes followed the line of Xemnas's back, and he felt a strange churning in his gut, a pressure that twisted tighter there with every word Xemnas had said. He did not believe this was a man who was scheming against them all again, a man who wanted to see them fall. Those eyes—there was no lie within them, no shield of enigma and obfuscation. Not this time. You truly have changed, Xemnas.

“I don't think so.” Isa went over to him, and he hesitated only a moment before placing a hand on Xemnas's shoulder, gently pulling him back around to face him. He looked up at Xemnas, and he could see himself reflected in those wide, deep amber eyes. Words stalled for a moment on his tongue, and then he murmured, “Or perhaps all of us are.”

Isa could hear that Xemnas's breathing had grown shallow, and all he seemed to manage for a brief moment was a slow blink down at Isa. Then his hand rose, slow and tentative, and his fingertips brushed scarcely against the line of Isa's jaw. Isa felt his heart leap into his throat, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was how Xemnas had felt when Isa had offered him a mirror of this same touch weeks ago. “I long thought that humans were nothing but fools. I am not yet sure I am wrong.” Xemnas's words were low, furtive, barely more than a whisper, but that voice of his could never be anything but crystal clear. “But neither am I any longer so certain that foolishness is a flaw in humanity.”

Though the touch of Xemnas's fingers just below his cheek was less than feather light, those points of contact felt white-hot on Isa's skin, radiating like lightning through the rest of him. Xemnas gazed down at him like there was nothing else in this world or beyond, and Isa could only think—

It would be so easy. 

It was far from the first time he had thought those words in Xemnas's company. Knelt at his feet—it would be so easy to plunge a blade into his gut. Perched in his lap—it would be so easy to tear open his chest. Half-asleep at his side—it would be so easy to rip out his throat. 

The universe had played a cruel joke on him with what those thoughts had ultimately morphed into. But just as he had every time back then, Isa would not take his chance. He would hesitate, and he would explain it away with reason after reason, but he would know that deep down, it was out of nothing but his own weakness. So instead of closing what little distance still remained between them, claiming what he wanted, finishing the job he knew a part of him had come here hoping for, Isa took a halting step back. 

Immediately, Xemnas retracted his hand, and Isa thought he might have finally understood why Demyx had so often touted the value of running away. 

“Forgive me.” Xemnas’s voice had dipped into melancholy monotone, the hand that had touched Isa tightening at his side. 

All Isa managed to muster at first was a slight shake of his head. The tightness in his throat was his own doing, he knew, and it was his turn to struggle to make eye contact. “No… Thank you. For being honest with me.”

“Such is long overdue.” Xemnas offered him a small, sad smile, and Isa could only weakly bark a laugh. 

“Yes. All the more reason to appreciate it.” 

“An interesting thought.” Xemnas took a deep breath, glancing over Isa's shoulder and out the window. “...You are the one to be thanked, Isa. Though I still do not understand it, you have… made this life easier, in spite of all that our past holds. I am trying not to take such things for granted. Not again.”

Though Isa had been the one to push the conversation to this point, he now felt like he was the one fighting for air. “I'm… glad to hear that.” Part of him wished Xemnas would be more selfish, more greedy, more willing to take. It would make Isa feel better about what he wanted so desperately in that moment. 

But Xemnas had taken up a respectful distance again when Isa pulled away. That was the right thing to do. How was it that Xemnas was doing the right thing with more apparent ease than he was? 

A quiet, thoughtful hum came from Xemnas as he regarded Isa. There was a knowingness to his eyes, an understanding in the depths of that cinnamon orange that could only have come from years of being entwined with one another in some way, shape, or form. “I do not know if it is for my hands to do, but if you are in need… know that I would help you, if I could.”

“Do I seem like I need help?” This time, Isa only partly hoped that Xemnas would tell the truth. 

“You are the strongest of any I have ever met. But you have been failed by others too many times to count.” An edge of bitterness slipped into Xemnas's voice. “I do not wish to be counted among those yet again. Nor do I wish to stand by while any others do.”

Isa looked back down at the desk, letting his face tuck back under the comfort of his collar. “I'm fine. But I will… keep that offer in mind.”

“Good.” Xemnas looked to manage a small smile, those plush lips curving ever so slightly upward at him, and Isa's heart ached.

“I should go,” he ended up muttering. “Besides, your food's likely getting cold, if it hasn't already.”

“It is fine.” Xemnas shook his head, and they both knew the damned dinner tray didn't matter. “Goodnight, Isa. Know you are… welcome here, should you ever wish to speak further.”

Isa wondered exactly how welcome he was in this bedroom. The same repressed part of him as earlier wished Xemnas would take it upon himself to show him just how much. 

He pushed that encroaching thought away, heading for the door. “Goodnight, Xemnas. And…” He paused with his hand on the doorknob, halfway through the door as he glanced back at the man that made his new heart race so fervently, the fine features of Xemnas's face softened in the cast of the fading evening light. “Thank you for the flowers.”

Isa left before he could make any greater fool of himself.

His bedroom door closed behind Isa, and Xemnas scarcely had a moment to gather his overheated thoughts before another familiar voice sprung up into his head.

“He brings himself to you on a silver platter, and what do you do? Hesitate. Will you ever learn?”

Xemnas made a sound in the back of his throat, something like a short, blunt growl. “I’m not sure I appreciate your commentary on my personal doings, Ansem.”

He sensed rather than outright heard his Other chuckle. “It is moreso on your lack thereof. He was here in your room, waiting for you, and yet you hardly touched him.”

“He stepped away. I wasn't going to press him further.” There was a note of irritation in Xemnas's voice. Of course he had wished for more—Xemnas always wished for more—but he convinced himself that what they had had been enough. 

“He wanted you to. He has always wanted you to. I would have thought you would know that about him by now.” Xemnas closed his eyes, and he could all but see Ansem's sleek face looking unimpressed. “You know just how badly he wants to be sought after. How he thrives when he is claimed. Have you forgotten how to see opportunity when it looks you in the eye?”

“He is more than a mere opportunity.” Xemnas frowned, and he looked down at the tray Isa had brought him, laden with food Xemnas had shown preference for in their past life. “And I do not wish to add to his struggles by complicating things needlessly.”

“Yet the longer you wait, the sooner he slinks back to that idiot redhead of his.”

Xemnas's jaw tightened, a slight clench that pulsed at his temple. Jealousy was a powerful emotion—a fact he had known even well before he had a full-fledged heart beating in his breast. And it was one that all-too-easily reared its passionate, resentful head within him at any thought of Lea, alongside anger at any thought of even the potential of him failing Isa again. Bold feelings to have, considering Xemnas's own track record, but he had never claimed not to be a hypocrite.

“I controlled the direction of his life for ten years. I do not intend to try to do so again. I mean only to meet him wherever he wishes to meet me.” Though the thought of merely looking on as Isa found solace in Lea's arms instead made bile rise in Xemnas's throat.

“Don't be blind. Whether you're too stubborn to see it or too cowardly to act on it, he is waiting for you.” Xemnas felt the strange sensation of Ansem's presence beginning to recede from his consciousness once more. “Good luck, Xemnas.”

With that, Ansem’s voice was gone, and Xemnas was left with too many different types of agitation skirting under his skin. 

He knew that Saïx had been so angry, so hurt that Axel had not chased after him with the fervor Saïx desired. All Xemnas had been able to do was watch, try to fill that space left behind with himself, make himself fit where he never should have until he was the one providing whatever semblances of false comfort he could to his lieutenant.

Isa had seemed to want to be here today, speaking with Xemnas. When it came to Xemnas’s bouquet, he had seemed grateful, to Xemnas's immense relief. And yet Xemnas knew fully well why Saïx had first come to him in the past, and why he kept coming back. It was far from sheer desire only for him.

Maybe Isa's apparent distress of late had once again come from waiting for Lea—trying to get his lover's attention once again. He was well within his rights to use Xemnas as a stepping stone however he saw fit. Regardless of what Ansem said, he could not be waiting for Xemnas instead.

Could he?

Xemnas rubbed his eyes with a rough sigh as he attempted to take his dinner, and he stayed awake for several hours to watch as the moon of this world rose high into the sky.

Chapter Text

Days continued to pass, and Xemnas’s physical health continued to return to him. He continued to spend most of his time between the laboratory with Even or the garden with Aeleus, Isa continued to reside in Radiant Garden, and anyone who frequented the library would notice that the vase of flowers on the corner desk continued never to wilt.

It was as close to belonging as Xemnas expected ever to become, and he decided he would take it, no matter how incomplete it felt. Though he was far from a stranger to envy—though he longed to be granted any sort of true, affectionate companionship, the kind that he observed between Dilan and Aeleus and Even and Ienzo, and though he longed to one day know what true kinship and acceptance felt like—Xemnas attempted to content himself with what he had been granted, shoving cotton into the mouth of the beast inside him that hungered for more. 

At the very least, he felt his company was minded surprisingly little by Aeleus, and if he wasn’t just imagining it, Even seemed to have grown somewhat less cold over the course of the last few days. He did not see Ienzo very often, but Even explained this as the young man preferring to work the opposite schedule to ensure things were kept running around the clock. As for Dilan—well, the guardsman still regarded him with thinly-veiled disdain, but Xemnas could not fault him for that. 

It took some getting used to, being on equal or lesser footing with his former companions and being treated as such. But he found a solace in that, in getting to know who each of them really were; even if it was from arm’s length. He was not sure they would ever wish to share the sentiment, but he considered them his friends, and the care his heart was steadily growing for them was at long last sincere. 

Then, of course, there was still Isa. 

They predictably did not work in nearly as close concert as they had in the days of his first Organization, and Xemnas had continued to keep Even's warnings in mind, but they would speak on occasion, especially after their conversation in Xemnas's bedroom. Isa came to the laboratory every so often to assist with one task or another; for the most part while Xemnas and Even worked, Isa remained off to the side, simply observing and taking record of the plans to be put in place before he would leave to take care of whatever supplies and manpower were needed to see them done. Other times, Xemnas was the one observing Isa from afar in the library, catching sight of that familiar furrow of focus etched on the man's sharp features as he devoted himself to his work once more.

Xemnas had been more than well aware of Isa's various aptitudes for years now. There was reason after reason for why Saïx had held the position he did. But seeing the man's wealth of finer qualities with eyes less jaded by the denial of their hearts—his own heart—was, as all things now were, far more intense. He had thought he appreciated Saïx back then. He had appreciated Saïx, in his way. But now, freed of the shackles he had never fully acknowledged wearing, free to feel without the reservations that came with knowing their time was doomed to one day run out, Xemnas found that his appreciation for Isa only grew. 

After the power of Berserk had drawn Xemnas's eye to Saïx, he began to take closer note of what else made the man him. Fierce dedication. Ruthless cunning. Surprising passion, for one so cold and poised. In this life, Xemnas saw how those parts of him remained, yet applied now to new pursuits. To humanity. He admired Isa's resourcefulness; in the short time he had been here, Isa had already optimized the schedule of the repairs being made to the castle and to the city, and he had taken the burden of the paperwork required by the restoration effort off of Even and Ienzo's shoulders. Isa was not cruel as Saïx had been, but was still calculating and shrewd, capable of analyzing the logistics of any proposed project and pointing out the errors anyone else may have missed. He remained focused, driven, and taciturn; though when he spoke up in that quiet, low voice, one could only hang onto his every word. He was intelligent, and he was graceful, and he was beautiful in every way a man could be. 

Xemnas loved him.

It was still quite the beast to contend with—him, once the Superior of the In-Between, Lord of Naught, King of Nothingness, becoming a man who loved. But he did. Xemnas's feelings were no longer trapped under the inescapable, impenetrable wall of Xehanort's will and smothered by the ash left in the wake of his own decisions. Now, they seemed to grow like the weeds he helped Aeleus pull from the gardens, and for all his strength and former finesse at doing so, Xemnas could no longer stifle them.

Love had been far from alien to Terra, and even to Xehanort it had not been utterly unfamiliar. So although Xemnas's recollections of what it meant to love another person were skewed and confused, born as he had been from little more than sorrow and rage, he knew enough to recognize the longing that burned in him for what it was. Though he was not sure he understood fully what love was, nor what it meant, there could be no other name for the deep ache in his chest when he caught sight of Isa silhouetted in the sunbeams of the library, or the way his pulse thudded like a manic drum each time Isa addressed him in the laboratory. 

And for whatever mad reason, Isa did not scorn nor spurn his former master as would have been his every right. Had Isa wished it, he could tear Xemnas apart from the inside out in every way one person could do to another; emotionally, mentally,  and physically. Xemnas would have let him, too, in the span of a newfound heartbeat. Yet Isa hadn’t. Instead, he was simply there with him, unwavering, even encouraging, and all Xemnas felt he could do was try to be worthy of that fact, limited though his knowledge of being so was. Thus his efforts within the walls of the laboratory were genuine, his desire earnest to restore the world of Radiant Garden to its former glory. After years upon years of taking from Isa, from all of the apprentices, the least Xemnas could do was return to them the home that he—or who he had been—had destroyed.

Saïx had once been the backbone of his organization. Saïx had been the reason they had ever gotten as far as they had, the shimmering oil that kept such a complex machine so smoothly running. He had worked so hard, had fought so desperately for what he wanted, and Xemnas had not helped him. Never truly. Even when he was not lying, Xemnas had not liked to work, nor to try, nor to do much of anything at all when he had been the Superior. It was difficult to want to do anything when one could not care; let alone when one knew he and all he may have come to care about was doomed either to expire or to be a tool, a stepping stone for a shrewder man. But given this second chance as he had been, he had rediscovered a thirst for knowledge and research and effort. And so he studied, his readings ravenous, the books on his bookshelf swiftly absorbed and cycled through with those of the grand library. He brought Even his plans for architectural redevelopments of the city and of the castle, and he would rework them tirelessly until all needs and expectations for each project were satisfied.

It felt far better, he found, to work when his heart was truly in it. 

A little over two weeks after Isa had come back, Xemnas was in the laboratory once again with Even, analyzing a section of urban sprawl that had yet to be restored. 

“Look here, Xemnas,” Even was saying, drawing his attention back to the three-dimensional model of a city borough rotating on the computer screen. Even had his chin held in one hand as he considered the display. “If this wall on the south side is reinforced, combined with Cid's improved Claymores, that should mitigate the Heartless problem in this area.”

“Indeed.” Xemnas had not personally interacted with any other members of the official Restoration Committee in any depth, but he was familiar with their efforts. The pilot, Cid, had recently programmed enhancements to the town's defense mechanism. Though the fact that they were named after the same type of weapon that Saïx had used was doubtless unintentional, Xemnas inwardly found it symbolic. He had yet to see Isa wield any sort of weapon, but he supposed if he did, that claymore, too, would only be wielded for the defense of the city. Woe to any who might find themselves in the wake of its wrath, surely—

Focus. 

Xemnas cleared his throat, nodding. “Beyond the stone itself, it would perhaps be wise to imbue the wall with some form of barrier magic. But then there are also the sewers. Everything connects like a labyrinth when it comes to the waterworks, correct? With how close this area is to the outskirts, infestation from below isn’t unlikely.” 

“Hmm. Perhaps securing the waterworks themselves would be a worthy undertaking all of its own.” Even sighed. “Yet another project to add to the ever-growing list. I suppose we can scope for added security measures—why, hello, Aeleus.” Even had turned suddenly, his attention drawn to the doorway of the laboratory where the very large, broad-shouldered man now stood.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Aeleus stepped into the lab, his footfalls surprisingly quiet for a man of his stature. It wasn't all that uncommon for the stony giant to stop by the lab, and Xemnas lifted his head to greet the guardsman with a nod. Aeleus appeared to be holding a white box of some kind, and he made a loose gesture with it. “I thought I would bring this by.”

“Ah, yes.” Even straightened from where he had been hunching over a keyboard. “I almost forgot. Xemnas, this is yours.”

Aeleus handed Xemnas the box, and Xemnas looked at it in something like flat confusion. “Mine?” Had he left something somewhere? That couldn’t be right. He had scarcely anything that belonged to him at all.

“Yes.” Aeleus gave a crisp nod, ever a man of few words.

“It’s simply some more… traditional garb. You’ll recall it, I’m sure.” There was a dismissive note to Even’s voice, but there was something else, too, that Xemnas couldn’t quite place. 

Lifting off the lid of the box, Xemnas saw it contained a white lab coat, a gray vest, and a piece of violet cloth, all atop a pair of black knee-high boots. He of course recognized them immediately as the same articles worn by Even, Ienzo, and Ansem the Wise, and the same ones Xehanort had worn back in his days as an apprentice. These, however, appeared to be new, and in Xemnas’s size. “...Ah. These are…?”

“To be worn when you are working here in the laboratory or otherwise lending yourself to castle efforts,” Even finished for him rather bluntly. “We do have an image to maintain.”

“I see.” Xemnas rubbed the fabric of the ascot between his forefinger and thumb, a contemplative look on his face. Though Even's words themselves were rather curt and matter-of-fact, they brought an unexpected warmth to him. Perhaps he was grasping at straws for any semblance of belonging or rapport with his former members, but the fact that they saw him as worthy of being part of any image of theirs made him… happy. “Thank you for providing them for me.”

“You can put them on over what you're wearing now. Make sure it fits properly.” Even's dismissive air remained, and yet it somehow felt like said air was being put on deliberately. Xemnas was not quite certain what to make of that. 

He withdrew the clothing from the box, pulling the vest over his head and donning the lab coat and boots. He tried to tie the ascot, but between his present lack of a proper mirror and the fact that the motion no longer felt habitual to his hands, the purple cloth looked slightly clumsy where it lay around his neck. All the same, everything fit, and it brought a far-off sense of familiarity, almost as though he remembered remembering it. He wondered if the sight of him in these clothes would only bring back dark memories for those around him, or if this symbolized his chance to start anew.

“Suitable enough,” was Even's verdict. “Consider this your work uniform, but I don't care if you choose to wear it outside of the laboratory. I believe Aeleus will have already left a few other sets of it in your room.”

Aeleus nodded. “Even thinks you've earned the right to wear it again.”

“Tch.” Even turned up his nose, returning his focus to the computer screen. “It's as I said. We have an image to maintain.”

Xemnas looked between the two of them, and he thought he may have caught the slightest of upward twitches at Aeleus's lips. He smoothed his hand down the front of the coat, focusing on the feeling of its fibers beneath his fingers. Though he could now feel more than just physically, physical touch continued to be one of the more grounding sensations there were for him. “Regardless of the reason, I am grateful to have them.” 

Even sniffed, examining the computer screen for a few seconds. “Aeleus isn't… entirely incorrect,” he said at length. “You have lent yourself well to what has been asked of you. I don't see the use in indicating that as unappreciated.”

Xemnas was quiet for a moment, coming to grips with that implication and what it might mean for his future. Ultimately, he smiled—one slight, and almost hesitant, but a smile nonetheless. “It is good to hear that.”

“Don't think you can rest on any laurels,” Even immediately went on, but Xemnas did not feel his brusqueness was meant to cut, this time. “We will continue to expect much more from you if you are to remain here.”

Xemnas shook his head. “As do I.” 

“Speaking of.” Aeleus's clear, serious blue eyes landed back on Xemnas. “Master Ansem wished to talk to you once you were finished here. He said he would be waiting in the gardens for you.”

The wings of Xemnas's rarely-heightened spirits were clipped as quickly as they had risen. The elder, original Ansem remained, to his knowledge, unenthused by the shell of his most despicable former apprentice walking the halls of his castle. “Is something the matter?”

“Not sure.” Aeleus shrugged. “He just said there was someone here to see you.”

That could mean any number of things. A large number of those things were likely to involve someone who was very angry. But Xemnas had resolved to face any consequences of his actions as they might arise. He exhaled. “Very well. I will meet him when we are finished.”

“We were nearly finished for today, anyway. Besides, it wouldn't do to keep Master Ansem and his guest waiting long.” Even placed his hands together behind his back. “You can go now. We can resume what we were working on tomorrow.”

Xemnas obliged, and together with Aeleus left the laboratory upon wrapping up for the day. The guardsman soon parted ways from him with a nod of goodbye, and Xemnas headed to the gardens with the familiar feeling of a long coat swishing about his ankles.

Sure enough, in one of the inner court gardens was Ansem, his red scarf prominent amidst the pastel blossoms. With him was another man, a brunet in unforgettable old-fashioned clothes, and Xemnas felt a profound sense of the uncanny wash over him. Gooseflesh rose on the back of his neck as he suddenly became hyper-aware of every inch of his own body. 

Terra was speaking quietly with the Sage King, muscular shoulders drawn back in respectful, deferential posture while they walked along the path. As Xemnas approached, they paused. Terra then turned towards Xemnas, and it sent a jolt up his spine. 

Those were his own lips. The shape of his nose. Eyes that, save for the color, were a perfect mirror of the ones Xemnas was looking at him with. Terra looked ten years younger, was more trim, but that was only because Xemnas had been the one to wear this body as it aged.

He blinked slowly at the two men before him. From one of them, Xemnas had stolen his name. From the other, Xemnas had stolen his body. He felt a sickening wave of discomfort at the sight of them side-by-side, a deep feeling of wrongness settling in his belly. He was staring down two powerful reminders that he never should have existed, and perhaps had no right to exist even still. 

“Hello, Xemnas.” Terra greeted him first with a slight incline of his head. His voice was gentle, but cautious; not timid, but wary, almost curious. Xemnas wondered what it was like for Terra, in turn, to look upon the physical semblance of the stolen years of his life. 

“Good afternoon, Ansem. And Terra…” Xemnas placed a hand over his chest, closing his eyes. “We meet again.”

Ansem clasped his hands behind himself, turning to address Xemnas. He took in the sight of Xemnas's new garb with a quick, appraising glance. There appeared to be a slight pinch at the corners of his eyes, but he gave no other sign as to his inner thoughts. “Xemnas.” The Sage King’s voice was one of the few deeper than Xemnas’s own. “I take it the two of you need no introduction.” 

Xemnas chuckled, a dark, rich sound from his chest that only barely escaped his lips. “No, we do not.” 

Terra’s body had not been the only thing Xemnas had borrowed from him, for lack of a better word. Terra’s heart was strong. Perhaps one of the strongest there was. Though Xehanort’s will held the strings when it came to the puppeteering of Xemnas’s non-existence, that strength of Terra’s heart, too, had left an impact, and one not altogether insignificant. Fragments of Terra's memories and flashes of his sentiments were no small part of the blade that had whittled Xemnas into being over his long years as Superior; his longing, his anger, his desire for the company of his friends, all melding into the mess of the innermost thoughts Xemnas kept locked away. Remembrances that were not quite clear, faces Xemnas knew were loved, should be kept close, but connections Xemnas could not trace for himself. Not truly. 

Looking at Terra, it all felt like—a scattered dream that's like a far-off memory. A far-off memory that's like a scattered dream. 

He took a deep breath, returning his attention to Ansem. “I was told you wished to speak?”

“I was the one who wanted to.” Terra had a thoughtful look on his face, brows knit. “It's not often you get a chance to talk to your Nobody—in a sense, at least—in flesh and blood.”

Xemnas gave a small nod. As far as he knew, Roxas and Naminé were the only others who now existed alongside their persons of origin. No thanks to him. 

“Indeed.” He had spoken with Terra briefly in the realm of sleep, yes, but he had been even more lost then than he was now. Even less able to contend with what it truly meant to speak to him. Yet he remembered that Terra had been unexpectedly aware of how Xemnas had felt. Unexpectedly understanding. No—why would it be unexpected, if Terra, too, had been able to see glimpses directly into his heart?

He swallowed, holding Terra's gaze. “It must be… a complex feeling.”

“You tell me.” Terra gave a flat-lipped smile, one that only just made its way to his somber blue eyes. There were more years of grief, years of suffering, in those eyes than his body betrayed. “I told you you'd be able to figure things out out here.”

“So you did.” Xemnas was still cautious of what he said in the company of Ansem the Wise, well aware that the ice on which he stood here was especially thin. “Do you feel your expectations have been met, Terra of the Keyblade?”

“You haven't failed them. That alone matters.”

Xemnas knew how much expectation had weighed as a burden on Terra's shoulders—stifling, indomitable, pressing down until they caused parts of him to buckle. Yet he had never fallen completely. Not as any other would have. Not as Xemnas had.

“Believe it or not,” Xemnas said after a slow exhale, not bothering with the sidelong glance it would have been easy to cast Ansem, “I have been… making an effort.”

Terra's smile grew gentler, almost as though how to do so was coming back to him. “It seems like it.” He looked at Ansem, giving him a respectful bow of his head. “If it's all right, Master Ansem, I would like to talk to Xemnas alone. Some things are… personal.”

“Certainly.” Ansem inclined his head in return, and Xemnas could sense that there was enough trust in Terra to outweigh any distrust in him. “Stay as long as you wish, my boy.” He gave a curt nod to Xemnas before departing the way Xemnas had come. 

Terra watched him leave for a moment, then looked back at Xemnas. “Come on. Let's walk.”

“Mmh.” Xemnas followed Terra as they meandered down one of the garden paths, a literal shadow just behind him. “I expect you're well aware that Ansem the Wise does not prefer my company.”

“I can't blame him. But at the same time, he was the one who gave the okay to transfer your heart into a replica. You have a right to be here.” Terra looked up at the sky, voice musing. They paused near one of the fountains, its gentle bubbling melding with the quiet breeze that ruffled the flowers. “I still think you deserved this, Xemnas. A second chance.”

Terra was a good man. He had made mistakes—if none as great as Xemnas's—but he was a good man, with a heart that had been strong enough to weather what would have utterly destroyed anyone else. Terra was loyal, and he loved, as deeply as one could. Sometimes that love had brought darkness, and anger, and pain; but Terra's bond with his friends had been powerful enough to bring him back from a point that would have been the end for anyone else. It had been powerful enough to bleed over to Xemnas, responsible in part for leaving him most possessive over the boy who looked just like Ventus and the responsible blue-haired member among his ranks.

“I am grateful to you,” said Xemnas, and his voice had grown quieter, soft and sincere as he watched the spray of the fountain. “In every sense, I… would not exist here, save for you.” Perhaps that would not have been such a bad thing. Perhaps that may have even been the best thing. But here Xemnas was now, and things were not as they had been before, and he could only be glad of that. 

“It's weird to think about.” Terra took a seat on one of the stone ledges that outlined the fountain, crossing his legs at the ankles. “I had no choice in what happened. No control over my body becoming a Nobody. Wherever I was—all the different pieces of me—I could really only sense some of what was going on outside. Flashes of feelings here, figments of memories there; most of them painful. But when I finally woke up again, it all made more sense.” Terra looked down at his palm, then closed his hand, bringing his loose fist over his chest. “When your heart found its way into mine, I was able to tap into your memories, almost. Feel the things you felt. I wasn't trying to or anything, it just kind of… happened. But I could feel that you had a heart. One of your own. And that it wasn't just full of darkness.”

Xemnas listened in ponderous silence, folding his arms. The thought of anyone else being acquainted with his innermost thoughts, desires, and memories was not necessarily an appealing one, but the life he had lived thus far had made it clear that it had an appetite for irony. Were it not for that connection to Terra, the fact that Terra knew each and every one of the weakest parts of him, the thin thread Xemnas had been able to follow to humanity might long have snapped. “It must have been troubling for you. Finding yourself saddled with an extra heart, and one so tied to all that was done to you.” He gave only a slantwise addressment to the actual topic at hand, just as he had done so often in the past. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had wished instead to leave all reminders of it behind.”

“No. Pain's all part of being human. Remember?” Terra shook his head, but there was a doleful smile on his face. “I meant to come here sooner, actually. To get a chance to really talk to you. I know there was our meeting in the realm of sleep, but meeting you in person feels different, somehow. I won't say it isn't strange, talking to someone with a face that looks just like mine.” Terra turned his head to look at Xemnas. “But you aren't me. And you're not Xehanort, either. You're just you.” He sighed, placing his hands on the stone on either side of him. “So—who is Xemnas?”

Xemnas's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Terra gave a loose gesture at him. “You. Who are you? What makes you you?”

Xemnas simply looked at him for a long moment, expression blank. And then he laughed, resonant and almost quizzical. “What an interesting inquiry. One to which I am not sure I have ever given much thought. I was not anything for so very long.” He was not being entirely honest. He had thought a great deal on who and what he was, and these past few weeks in particular had borne the brunt of his in-depth self-reflection. Yet he almost felt… ashamed of any individuality he might have come to possess. Embarrassed, as though it was wrong for him to have done so, like a child getting caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He was still so unused to shame. 

“Yes, you were. Otherwise you wouldn't be here now.” Terra's muscular arms folded. Xemnas's own arms were larger, but less toned. Much of the rest of him was the same way. “I got glimpses of it. Things you liked, disliked. Things you cared about, even if you pretended not to or told yourself you didn't.” His dark blue eyes were earnest and knowing. “There's humanity in you. Maybe it's new, or maybe it was always there, just hidden away. I guess I just wonder—what things made you become Xemnas. Not just my body. Not just a piece of Xehanort. You.”

Xemnas stared into the fountain, his water-warped expression somber. Eventually, he also took a seat a respectable distance from Terra, reaching up to absently smooth his hand over his new ascot. “I spent many years unable to feel true emotion. More years to be certain than the rest of my number. Where my fellows possessed memories of their past lives, of childhoods and former bonds and once-real feelings from which they could recall and regrow their hearts, I had nothing beyond vague notions of dual pasts that were not mine. I remembered… not remembering. Being an apprentice here, with nothing but amnesia and ambition and a purpose that felt intrinsic to who I was—even if I did not know why. And then I remembered recalling—Xehanort, reclaiming himself and his ultimate goal just before rending out his own heart, alongside those of the ones who would become my first companions.” 

Xemnas's thoughts were meandering, but he found it freeing to speak of such things to one who knew what beget him better than any living other. He did not look directly at Terra as he spoke, but stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. “And then I began to recall… you. Not with any great clarity at first, but I could recall feelings of… anger. Hatred. Rage. They were powerful. They were all I knew, alongside my place in Xehanort's plan.”

There was a quiet grunt from Terra beside him, but the Keyblade wielder did not interrupt. 

Xemnas exhaled, looking up at the lavender-blue sky, watching a few clouds as they drifted along with no goal in sight. “I did not seek out more when it came to the greater development of sentiment within me. Not deliberately. But I… sensed its absence. The emptiness you felt, bereft of your family. The emptiness Xehanort felt, no stranger to loss, himself. And though I could not feel… I wanted what you both once had. Companionship. True friends.” He frowned. “Yet I could only muster a mockery of it. An empty, twisted version, for an empty, twisted Nobody.”

Terra, to Xemnas's surprise, shook his head. “It sounds to me like you did feel. More than you thought you did, at least. You wanted things. That's a big part of being human, too.” Terra's voice sounded somewhat strained, but still quiet. Thoughtful. 

It couldn't be comfortable, Xemnas was sure, for Terra to hear about the shell he unwillingly left behind taking on any sort of will of its own, pining after echoes and shadows of all Terra had known and loved. But the Keyblade wielder had suffered through far worse than an uncomfortable conversation. Surely if Xemnas said something to anger or unsettle him overmuch, he would make that known. So Xemnas went on.

“The nature of a Nobody is complex,” he mused. “Perhaps I did feel, but was too blind to see it. Perhaps my lies made too-comfortable a nest within me, above all. I tried to convince myself, too, at first, that the hearts we were growing were false, or were not there at all. It would have been far easier.” A distant, wistful smile pulled at Xemnas's mouth. “But… yes. There were things I wanted. Things I… enjoyed, for lack of a better term. We were only bodies. Comforts of the flesh were not wholly lost to us. I preferred my tea with lemon every morning. My bedding was luxurious beyond necessity. And I was informed by Xigbar on more occasions than one that I possess a formidable sweet tooth.” There was a twang within his heart at the thought—Xigbar had been the closest thing Xemnas had had to a true friend. He missed him, and wondered not for the first time why Braig had not returned. Though he had always suspected there was more to his confidant than met the eye, he assumed it now kept Braig away, and he wished it did not.

For now, he pushed that thought aside, and cleared his throat when it threatened tightness. “I also enjoyed the sound of the sea. Watching its waves, when I could, lapping at the shores of the Realm of Darkness. And the moon… my Kingdom Hearts. I could spend hours in its company. It was the one thing I could truly allow myself to want.”

He could tell Terra was looking at him, posture leaned forward and head craned to the side. “What about Saïx?”

Xemnas closed his eyes, resting his palms flat on the cool stone on either side of him. “You have sampled my memories, have you not? That should answer your question.”

“Some of it. But I want to hear it from you.” 

Finally, Xemnas turned to him, amber eyes meeting their ocean-blue match. “Why?”

Terra shrugged, but he didn't seem even somewhat intimidated by the former Nobody King beside him. “Because he's my friend. Isa, I mean. And I know you still care about him now, because some genuine part of you cared about him back then.”

The inner corners of Xemnas's eyes crumpled, and he cast his gaze back over his opposite shoulder, towards the castle instead of Terra's knowing look. A part of him was almost jealous, hearing that Terra, too, considered Isa his friend. If not Lea, then perhaps Isa would prefer a man who looked like Xemnas, but who possessed far fewer of his negative qualities nor any of their negative history together. But he reminded himself for the umpteenth time that all that mattered in this life was Isa's happiness, no matter where nor how he sought it.

He took a deep breath. “Yes. I suppose you must know that I… sought comfort with him. That I found comfort with him, physically and intellectually—perhaps even emotionally, somewhere deep within me. I lied not only to him, but to myself, that I could offer him the same comfort in return. That I could care for him, in my way, while our ultimate goals remained in diametric opposition. Like a beloved lamb, spoiled while it was raised for slaughter.” Disgust dripped from Xemnas's voice, guilt marching beneath his skin like angry fire ants. “I did care for him, before I knew what it was to care. And while I regretted before I knew what it was to regret, it was not before it was too late.” Xemnas's words had dipped to a murmur, and he focused on the way the lab coat felt beneath his fingers, worrying at it with a thumb and forefinger. “My Saïx, he… deserved so much more than I ever could have given him.” 

“You care about him very much.” Of course Terra knew that. But there was no mocking tone in his voice, no accusation nor intent to dissuade. He simply sounded sincere. “Your heart connected with his a long time ago. It's part of what made you human.”

“I do care for him,” said Xemnas softly, and he felt his brow furrow upward as he contended with that incessant tugging within his chest. “Deeply. Ceaselessly. I would tear the moon from the sky for him, were he not so fond of its place there.” Terra already knew how he felt. Why not confess as much aloud to one who, despite all odds and sense, he did not believe would judge him? “He has already died for me. I would offer him as much in return, should he only ask. I would fall at his blade and consider it a gift.”

Terra shook his head. “But he doesn't want that. He wants you to live.”

Xemnas gave a weak laugh through closed lips. “Indeed, it seems so. Arguably a more difficult wish to navigate.” He glanced back at Terra, though did not meet his gaze. “Though I cannot be ungrateful, I struggle still to fathom why he has chosen to offer me the grace he has.”

“I don't know him all that well myself, yet, and he seems like a complicated guy. But I think he might turn out to be the one who needs you rather than the other way around.” Terra outstretched his legs, his heels making a thunk on the ground. “He was afraid, you know, that he might not be important to you anymore. I told him that wasn't the case, but I don't think he'd be worried about something like that if he didn't want you around.”  

Xemnas was silent once more, feeling a strange churning in his gut. All he wished to do was take Isa into his arms as he had done so many times in the past, but this time to lavish him with the true adoration he deserved, to make certain that Isa knew of the shrine in Xemnas's soul maintained for him and no other. He wished to lay his heart bare, and to let Isa take whatever pieces of it he wanted, even if it left Xemnas broken. He could not blame Isa for doubting Xemnas's intentions and honesty, but he wished that Isa had never been given reason to doubt how much he mattered. 

Both men who had ever professed to care for him had betrayed him. There was nowhere Saïx had been able to turn without finding a dagger in his back. Xemnas's guilt roiled within him like a venomous snake, but anger, too, welled in him at the thought of Axel. It always did. How could it not, when Axel had failed Saïx deeply enough, enough times, that Xemnas knew? Axel, for all his blather and dithering about getting things memorized, had forgotten how much his childhood friend should have mattered to him. He possessed memories of Isa that should have been more precious to him than diamonds—and yet he had pulled away as Saïx grew in magnificence, had abandoned what should have been his most coveted prize for a wretch like Xemnas to pick up and play with instead. Though Xemnas in part owed Axel for the closeness he had been able to develop with Saïx—his fierce dire wolf that yearned only to be a beloved family pet—he would not forgive Axel the pain he had brought to him. Just as he would not forgive himself for the same. 

“Saïx… Isa.” Xemnas laced his fingers together, letting them dangle between his knees as his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his thoughts. “If I could, I would tell him that he alone is what matters most to me.”

“Why couldn't you?”

Xemnas gave Terra a look that was almost incredulous, but once again found only earnesty there. His mouth tightened slightly. It was almost too easy to speak with Terra. “...My interference has already complicated his life beyond repair. I would not add to that. But I will be here for him, should he ever have need of me. He need only ask.”

“Who knows. He might not ever ask. He doesn't really seem like the type to ask for help.” Terra leaned forward, still looking so accursedly knowing. “But I think what really matters is that you have a place in his heart, too. You know that, right?” 

Ansem's insistences regarding Isa's sentiments were one thing. But to hear as much from Terra, his unwilling progenitor, a man who owed him far less than nothing, was another story. 

He felt a flicker of resentment well up from Ansem within him at that thought, but ignored it.

It did not matter, Xemnas told himself, whichever strange, unexpected place Isa may have carved out in his heart for him, if it meant there was one. As much as Xemnas longed to curl up in the center of that heart, to spread his tendrils through every inch of it, to take every ounce of Isa’s unflinching, unyielding devotion for himself, he would take whatever corner of it he was given. Even if Isa and he were to remain little more than stalwart colleagues in this life, at best, there would always be a comfort to be found in the man's presence. It wasn't as though Xemnas was a stranger to pushing down thoughts of more. 

Clearing his throat, he looked back to Terra with a slow blink, and decided he was ready to change the subject.

“I think we have spoken overlong about a man who is not in our present company. May I ask you a question, instead?”

Terra, ever courteous, nodded. “Go for it.”

Xemnas took a few seconds to gather his thoughts, choosing his words carefully the same way he had done as Superior in the Round Room long ago. “Do you blame me for your misfortunes, Terra? Xehanort is the one who tore your life from you, but I was created in his image—albeit with your mold.”

A dark look passed over Terra's face—but then it faded, smeared away with a gentle sigh and a pass of his palm across his still-youthful face. “I spent ten years lost in the darkness. I couldn't feel anything that wasn't rage. I spent so much time hating —hating Xehanort, and hating myself. It was… more exhausting than I'd like to admit. And I'm tired of being so angry.” He turned his torso to dip his fingers into the fountain, running them through the cool water. “What good would blaming you do? And besides, you answered exactly what I was wondering today. You're not just a copy of Xehanort, just like you're not just a copy of me. I don't remember Xehanort ever touching lemon all those times he had tea with Master Eraqus. I don't like sweets, and I prefer the sun beating on my back to nighttime. Xehanort wouldn’t be talking with me like this.” Then a hint of a smirk, of all things, passed across his face. “And neither of us are in love with Isa.”

Xemnas’s smile was weary, and he took a long, contemplative breath through his nose, but he did not deny Terra’s words. He was not ashamed of the love he bore for Isa at long last. “You are a better man than most, Terra. I would have made a worthy scapegoat for most others standing in your place.”

“Like I said. What good would that do?” Terra pushed himself up, drying his hand on his wide, flowing trousers. “I’d rather see you turn around like you’ve been doing. That’s better revenge on Xehanort’s memory than anything else.”

Xemnas chuckled, and he followed Terra’s lead and stood, brushing off the back of his new lab coat where he had been sitting. “A fair enough assessment. And one I will not complain about.”

“Glad to hear it.” Terra stretched an arm over his head, closing one eye as he leaned into the stretch on one side. “People have always said I’m too quick to trust, but I don’t think it’s wrong to try and see the best in people. And I can see that there’s good in you, Xemnas. Follow whatever light it is you’ve found.”

It was moonlight, pale and comforting, never blinding, and Xemnas would follow it until his next dying day. Likely beyond, if his past experiences were anything to go by.

He bowed his head to Terra, his hand taking up its familiar position over his heart. Terra perhaps overestimated Xemnas's goodness—the former Superior was not yet raring to roam the cosmos to fight monsters in the worlds’ defense, nor did he care for all humankind unconditionally as a true hero might. He was not the type to leap to a stranger’s defense like Terra was. But he did care deeply for those few whom he did hold dear, and that was enough to keep him on this path he now walked. “Your faith is not taken lightly.”

Terra smiled at him once more, and though the pain in those blue eyes would doubtless take many more years to fade, they remained gentle even still. “Thanks for the talk. I'll be honest, it was a scary prospect for me for a while, talking to you face-to-face. That's why I put it off for so long. I was worried it would feel… wrong. But it felt more like talking to someone I've known for a long time, just like it did in the Realm of Sleep.”

“Most other strangers cannot say they have shared as much with one another as you and I have.” Xemnas moved some of his bangs out of his face—the overgrown version of the style Terra still wore. “It was… enlightening to speak with you, as well.”

“Agreed.” Terra peered off at the horizon, where the sun was looming low. “It's getting late. I ought to get going. But can I ask you a favor?”

Xemnas nodded.

“Good. I feel bad for missing him today, so say hi to Isa for me, okay?”  There was a shimmer in Terra's eyes before he struck the pauldron on his shoulder, his Keyblade armor materializing around him alongside his glider. His next words came out tinny and muffled, but clear enough to understand. “Take care, Xemnas. Until next time.”

With that, he flew off, leaving a gust of wind behind him that ruffled the flowerbeds. Xemnas watched him go until the glider twinkled out of sight, and he lingered in the gardens just a little while longer before he turned back to the castle with the breeze in his hair.

On top of all else, it seemed he now owed Isa a greeting. 

Chapter Text

Isa could still feel the pull of the moon. Though not as tightly bound to it as Saïx had been, its influence remained upon him, all the same. Across all the worlds he had visited, each moon’s energy felt slightly different; some were angry, some were sad, some were calm. Some of the worlds he had come across even had more than one moon, though the intensity of the power he could channel there had tended to push Saïx toward migraines. He could commune with them, could hear their voices, but he and they were still strangers, ships passing in the night. 

Most of Saïx’s time had been spent in the company of the beautiful, magnificent falsehood that was the Kingdom Hearts hanging in the sky of the World That Never Was. For a man who had been so certain he could feel nothing at all, Saïx had so adored that Kingdom Hearts, and had hated it just as much; the symbol of all he yearned for and all he didn’t have, encapsulated by a ghostly facsimile of the very heavenly body from which Saïx drew his strength. The relationship he'd had with that unholy moon had been more like that of codependent lovers, leaving him all too willing to chase its siren song even if it left scorch marks in their wake.

Despite it all, it had been difficult not to yearn for even the artificial, intoxicating influence of their Kingdom Hearts after taking up residence in the moonless, nightless Twilight Town. Above all others, however, Isa realized he missed this moon. The moon of Radiant Garden; the same one he had stared up at as a child in reverence and awe until his neck ached and his eyes were strained, the one that had managed to bring him comfort and guidance even long before he had learned to understand its language. Since coming back to stay in this world, Isa had begun to sleep with the curtains open, letting moonlight spill in through the window until the night sky bled into dawn. He greeted the moon's changing face every night like an old friend. Blessed thing, it was. The one thing in all his life that hadn’t changed. Its quiet power thrummed gently through his veins, and every night, a naïve part of him hoped it might offer him all the answers to his life in some lunar-addled fit of inspiration.

There were all too many things he was still uncertain about—where his feet were actually taking him, as just one example. He didn't like that uncertainty. Isa liked to have plans for contingencies and contingencies for every plan, lining out every detail in concrete, but this life didn't seem to allow for that quite like his old one. He appreciated it, in a way, but paving his own path for his own sake was an unfamiliar road to tread, even lit by the light of a familiar moon. 

Though Isa could say he had come to find enjoyment in applying himself towards Radiant Garden's reconstruction, he remained especially uncertain of where things currently stood with Lea. While they sent messages to check in with one another, Isa hadn’t actually seen him since coming to their home world, and he knew as well as anyone that tone didn’t tend to convey well through words in a bubble of text. Of course the correspondence he got from Lea tended to seem flippant and playful, but Isa wondered if it was all just a mask. He often found himself worrying about Lea, alone in the Twilight Town apartment, hurt and confused by Isa’s decision and waiting for him to come home. However, such worries also tended to be followed by the bitter thought that Isa was being much too egotistical. Lea’s life didn’t revolve around him the way sixteen-year-old Isa had wanted it to, and perhaps that was a good thing. Lea had plenty of other friends to lean on. There was even a repressed, bitter part of Isa that couldn’t help but remind himself that Axel had been just fine without Saïx when he had Roxas and Xion—unlike Saïx, who had lost himself entirely at the prospect of being alone.

It wasn’t a fair thought to have. Isa tried not to linger on it. 

Instead, he focused on grappling with the fact that he himself didn’t feel nearly as broken as he had expected—maybe even hoped—to be after leaving. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t filled with terror and dread at the thought of not being able to define himself by whatever bond he did or didn’t have with Lea. He was simply existing, doing so on his own terms, learning to live with himself after a lifetime of nothing but hating what he was. It frightened him. He still felt like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, like an impostor among the good, because he knew deep down that he wasn’t purely good. He had done terrible things. He had enjoyed doing many of those things, finding a grim, sickening satisfaction in his former cruelty once upon a time. Just as Saïx remembered how to injure a heart, Isa remembered what it was like to enjoy doing so. But he was trying to be better, to grow and make up for what he had been. He wanted to try. 

And in spite of it all, he just wanted to know what it was like to be happy. 

Isa still wasn’t certain that a man like him deserved happiness. These last few months, he had relied on self-flagellation for atonement, shearing off as many corners of himself as he could to fit himself less imposingly into the background of whatever picture he was permitted to be in. But he was coming to realize that it wasn't as though his misery and discomfort did anything for Lea or Roxas or Xion; all it did was leave them skirting around it, fearful of tripping a fuse. If he learned how to be happy on his own, surely that would make him easier to be around, too, wouldn't it? Besides, they had all encouraged him, and even if such encouragement was hard for him to believe, they at least deserved his trust in what they told him.

Yet despite that encouragement, Isa had a feeling it wouldn't extend to the other element of all of this that continued to tug at his heart.

He wasn't sure if it was nobility or cowardice that still kept him at arm's length from Xemnas. He wanted it to be the former; he wanted it to be solely out of the intent not to break Lea's heart, solely out of keeping himself tempered, out of a desire not to act too fast, not to be too rash. Those things were all part of it, to be certain; above all, he didn't want any happiness of his own to come at the cost of Lea's, or Roxas's, or Xion's. But so too was he afraid. What if he did seek out Xemnas, only to find that he still wasn't happy even then? What if he was happy, but the others felt betrayed, or begged him to turn back, or even shunned him for his choice? Or what if Xemnas turned out to feel the same way he did—that men like them didn't deserve to love and be loved in return? 

It was almost too strange to consider his feelings towards Xemnas in any such terms. To think that the mess of the past could have ever become something like love was all but laughable. Maybe it was just infatuation, he thought. In fact, maybe all he really needed was to climb into Xemnas’s bed with him again, to get it all out of his system. Saïx had always been the one with the highest drive for such things, and Isa himself had an appetite that he tended to hold back from feeding, even with Lea. Maybe he was just pent up, and the desire in his belly was something he could satisfy and be rid of. 

Isa was certain it was more than any of that.

If he was honest with himself, then what he truly wanted was to start over. To take the leap with the only man more guilty than he; the only man who understood the true depths of his darkness while neither fearing it nor denying it was there; the only man who seemed to have wanted him both at his worst and at his best, if this life he lived now could be considered his best. The past had been a tangled mess of wrongdoings, but there had been too many glimpses of what could be for Isa to simply forget them. Xemnas had shown him favor above anyone else, shown him what strange affection he could amidst the ruinous lives they had been led to lead, and Isa wanted to know how that affection would feel now that they were whole—now that the puppet strings had been severed from both of them. Isa wanted to know what it would feel like to simply be comfortable with him. To lounge and eat and relax with him. To have twisting, twining conversations whenever he wanted without feeling like he needed to pry clumsy fangs out of his mouth or clip his claws shorter. To be human with him, after they had both spent so many years existing as anything but. 

Even if one had been scheming against the other, they had made a good team, fitting together like hand and glove. Love and hate conjured similar sensations in the body when either was strong enough, and somewhere even back then, those two sensations had blurred, just as Isa had experienced with their Kingdom Hearts. They understood each other. They were perhaps the only ones left who truly did. What Isa wanted was to tell Xemnas as much, to ask him if they could try it all again now that it could, at last, be real.

That, however, Isa did not feel egotistical in assuming would break Lea's heart. No; that felt all too possible. 

So Isa compromised. He left himself in limbo—he allowed himself to work some days with Xemnas in the lab, allowed himself to converse with him from time to time, allowed himself to enjoy the scent of the flowers that reappeared every few days on his favorite desk. But he had yet to allow himself to pursue anything beyond that.

No one was happy that way, but it was all Isa could think to do.

It had been two weeks since Isa had come here, and almost every waking moment of it had been spent doing what he did best: working, or overthinking. There had yet to be any other confrontations from Dilan, and Even provided Isa a steady stream of to-do lists to keep him busy. The head scientist himself had his hands full juggling the monitoring of Kairi's slumber and the development of restoration plans, but Ienzo appeared to have taken on much of the former while, to Isa's quiet satisfaction, none other than Xemnas aided substantially with the latter. Isa once more took on the role of managing logistics and paperwork, and he found solace in it; there was a familiarity it bore to the past, to what he had known for so long, but this time his efforts were new and they were good and they held no secrets. He had a goal again in helping to heal his home, and this time he didn't have to hide a myriad of other hidden intentions from anyone. This time, he could be proud of what he was doing, though the nagging voice in his head only ever saw fit to remind him that this was what he should have done a long time ago. 

While his thoughts still often swam to dark and anxious places, Isa was more than used to that. He still knew how to compartmentalize, and at least he was finally moving forward in some direction again. He had even managed to send a few messages to check in with Terra amidst those sent to Lea, Roxas, and Xion. Pursuing new friendships remained unfamiliar territory, but one he was warming up to exploring. Though he wanted to learn how to stand on his own two feet, Isa still could not bear the thought of being alone—oxymoronic for one as prickly as he, he was well aware. The newfound burgeonings of friendship, however, did help to bring him peace of mind amidst his other inner turmoils.

Towards the end of his daily business somewhere around that two-week mark, he crossed paths with the greatest of those turmoils on his way back to the library. He very nearly had to do a double take, overcome with a strange sense of déjà vu at the sight of Xemnas wearing what looked to be a brand-new set of researcher’s garb. With its length and cut, Xemnas's silhouette was a perfect, if color-inverted, match of the one Isa remembered from the Organization. The rest of the ensemble hearkened back even further in his memory, back when the apprentice Xehanort had been little but an imposing mystery that would one day rend Isa's heart from him. Xemnas's expression as he approached, however, was not the same one of power and arrogance that Isa recalled from that apprentice of a decade ago, nor even the cool aloofness of the Organization's Superior. He had instead offered Isa a slight, yet sincere smile; one that still didn't look like it knew exactly how to spread across his face, but one that warmed his features, all the same.

He truly was handsome. Isa never would have been able to deny that.

“Isa,” Xemnas greeted him with a nod, and his deep voice seemed to linger on the last syllable of Isa's name. It always did. “I hoped I might come across you.”

“Did you?” Isa returned Xemnas’s smile in kind—that was to say rather awkwardly, but earnest as they stopped near each other in the hall. “Looks like you’ve gotten some new clothes.” Upon closer inspection, he could tell that the ascot was rather lopsided in how it had been tied. He found that fact oddly endearing.

“Ah—yes.” Xemnas passed a palm over one of the lapels with a slight upward twitch at his mouth. “Provided by Even and Aeleus. Even has indicated that they have an ‘image to maintain’, and from the sound of it I am not to sully that with a hand-me-down lab coat over plainclothes any longer.”  

Isa gave a quiet chuckle, and he took another step forward. Before he could think himself out of it, he carefully reached out and began to adjust the clumsy ascot, though he looked solely at Xemnas's chin rather than meeting his eyes as he re-tied the fabric. “You’ll need to fix this, then,” he said, keeping his tone no-nonsense as he got the accessory centered around Xemnas’s neck and fluffed to look more like the others’. It was an excuse to be closer for a moment; the kind of casual touch that could be expected of friends. 

How strange it was to think of Xemnas as a friend.

Isa's hand trailed off the end of the ascot, and warmth threatened his cheeks when he looked back up and saw the way Xemnas's pupils had dilated. It had been such a slight touch—Isa had scarcely even touched any part of him beyond the clothing—but there was the reaction he had selfishly hoped for, all the same. Plush lips had gone lax enough to part, and those warm eyes looked at him like there was nothing else that existed here but the two of them. Earning a reaction like that was all he could allow himself for now, even if it was cruel to them both. 

He saw Xemnas swallow, and there was another tentative smile, one that highlighted the creases at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you. I didn't have a mirror, nor did I remember exactly how to tie it.”

Isa took another step back, reappraising the man before him. A researcher, an architect, a friend; not a Lord Superior. “This suits you,” he said, and he meant it. Xemnas looked sharp, and he looked whole. It was perhaps unexpected when the very element the man had commanded was nothingness itself,  but completion seemed to suit Xemnas. Isa remembered how loathe Xemnas had been to work, back in the old days—he had been lethargic, too patient when it came to taking action, and there had been many times when it drove Saïx mad. In these last few weeks, however, it seemed that Xemnas was no longer hesitating to apply himself. He was trying, and if the brand-new clothing was anything to go by, that fact appeared to be being seen by the others, too. It gave Isa hope, both for Xemnas and for himself.

There was a moment's lull of silence before Isa cleared his throat, swallowing his distraction. “I apologize. You said you were looking for me?”

“I hoped our paths might cross, yes.” Xemnas had reached up to toy with the ascot. “Terra wished me to tell you hello for him.”

Isa's eyebrows rose. “Terra? You and he spoke?”

“We did, today, for the first time since my waking. He mentioned that you and he are… friends.”

“I would say that, yes.” Isa wondered how their conversation had gone. Not too badly, it seemed from Xemnas's apparent mood. Perhaps he might hear about it from Terra later, too. “I'm sure you understand the kind of strange familiarity there was when we met.”

“Mmh. Indeed.” Isa thought he caught a tightening at Xemnas's mouth, and Xemnas cast his eyes aside for a moment. “It is an unusual circumstance for all of us. But the conversation I had with him was…” He exhaled, closing his eyes briefly before looking back to Isa. “Enlightening.”

“Is that so? You seem to be in decent spirits. I take it that such enlightenment was a good thing?” If it was anything like Isa's own conversations with Terra, it must have been. Was it too self-centered to wonder if they had also spoken about him? Probably, but Isa couldn't help it.

“I believe it was.” Xemnas inclined his head, and there was an earnestness in his eyes that Isa was still getting used to seeing. He wanted to get used to seeing it. “He gave me… much to think about. Offered me further perspectives to consider.” Though Xemnas had always spoken slowly, ever ponderous and melodramatic, he seemed now to be struggling to choose the right words. Isa wondered if it was because this time, he was speaking from the heart.

Isa was focused on the features of Xemnas's face, each of its minute movements, the etchings of its lines. He had yet to lose his desire to interrogate Xemnas, though his goals now were far from the same as what they once were. It was clear to him now that Xemnas, while not upset, was anxious about something Terra had said, and Isa was far too nosy not to want to know what that may have been. “Such as?”

“My other hope was that you may be willing to speak with me on some of them, as well.” Xemnas's voice was very quiet, but its timbre made each of his words impossible not to hear. “Or rather… allow me to speak to you of them.”

Isa could keenly feel as his own heart picked up its pace. He feared knowing what Xemnas meant. He also couldn't stand not knowing what Xemnas meant. The thought of honesty from Xemnas had yet to lose its luster.

“You're allowed,” said Isa with a hint of a dry laugh. “What do you want to talk about?”

It seemed almost as though Xemnas hadn't expected it to be that simple. A reserved, yet hopeful look came across his face, and he took a breath before speaking. “Perhaps we should—”

“Isa! There you are!”

Both of them froze in their tracks, and Isa felt like electricity had shot up his spine. A youthful voice had echoed to them from down the long hallway, and Isa's head snapped around towards the sound of his name, eyes going wide as he saw who had called out to him. 

Striding towards them down the hall came Roxas and Xion. Xion was holding a bag at her side, and she waved at Isa despite an uncertain look on her face. Roxas had his hands in his pockets, and his smile was flat-lipped as they approached. 

When Isa glanced back to Xemnas, he saw that the gentle, almost shy look that had been on his face had become that of a deer in headlights, painted over with alarm and—

Fear. Of all things, it was fear that Isa watched flash in those amber eyes. 

“Xion. Roxas. What are you doing here?” Isa hoped he only sounded startled, not truly cold. He took a step towards them, positioned almost as though he was trying to hide Xemnas from view, absurd though it would be to try.

“We thought we'd come surprise you.” Xion held up the bag, and Isa could tell that her wide blue eyes were trying not to flicker back and forth between him and Xemnas. “We brought some ice cream.”

“So, what's up? Is this guy bothering you?” Roxas jutted his chin at Xemnas, shooting nothing short of a death glare at his former superior. Of course the boy was justified. Isa was more than sharply aware of that, and if his expression had been anything to go by, so too, it seemed, was Xemnas.

Isa, between them, squirmed. He had sworn never to spite these two young people again—and he didn't spite them now, not truly—but he did wish dearly that they had not happened to come along right here, right now. He wasn't ready to reconcile these two sides of his life. He wasn't ready to deal with the inevitable fallout of doing so. He wasn't ready to defend Xemnas to the faces of these two, but nor was he ready to condemn him. 

“No.” Isa knew his response came too quickly, too jagged around the edges in his fluster. He cast a look over his shoulder to Xemnas, who looked a few shades paler than usual. “He was just heading back to work. Right, Xemnas?”

Xemnas nodded, though the motion was robotic as his eyes shot between their faces and the ground. “Yes,” he went along with Isa's bluff, though he appeared to be struggling to decide whether to actually hurtle off down the hall or not. “Roxas… Xion. You appear well.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you.” Roxas's tone was as blunt as Isa had ever heard it. Isa bit hard on his inner cheek, but Xemnas seemed only to accept what he heard.

“Indeed.” There was no indignance to the word, just genuine acknowledgment. Xemnas's face remained averted. “For what little it may be worth… I am glad to see you have both persisted so strongly.”

Roxas looked ready to clobber Xemnas then and there, but Naminé must have told him enough about Xemnas's purposes of late for him to hold back. He rolled his wrist, closed fist flexing at his side. “It's a little late for that, but thanks.”

The boy spoke coldly, but Isa knew from intimate personal experience that forgiveness was not unattainable when it came to Roxas and Xion. When Isa had slunk back into their lives behind Lea’s shoulder, penitent and soft-spoken with remorse, they had first been cold and distant with him, as well—guarded, he should say, and rightfully so. But they had warmed up, given time. They were kind like that. He didn't expect them to be as willing to offer Xemnas the same any time soon, all things considered, and nor would he insist upon it, but he did hope that the sheer amount of loathing in the air would one day be less potent.

Xemnas, meanwhile, didn't flinch. He simply looked deflated. Defanged. “I—my apologies. I will leave you to your business with Isa.” With that, he gave a stiff bow at the waist before slinking off down the hallway back the way he had come. He managed only a brief glance at Isa as he departed, too short for Isa to tell what feelings now lay behind his eyes, and Isa’s heart sank into his belly from where it had leapt earlier into his throat.

Xion frowned, her expression pinched as she watched Xemnas leave. Her hand tightened on the handles of her bag, wrist angled as though it was the hilt of her keyblade in her hand instead. Roxas was close at her shoulder, still defensive and wary, but he looked resolute, put-together—more than he should have to. 

Isa's skin itched in discomfort, and he imagined peeling it off entirely just to escape the awkwardness of this situation. He was thrown off his routine, and he was still desperate to know what Xemnas had been going to say to him, and if he was being honest, he had never liked surprises, not even the good kind. But he owed it to these two not to shove his issues onto their shoulders once again. They had gone out of their way to be kind to Isa, of all people. They deserved his attention and consideration, if nothing else. 

Instead of gazing too long after Xemnas's retreating figure, he returned his focus to the two youths, trying not to let his agitation show. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to startle you,” he said quietly, subdued.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Isa.” Xion, despite it all, gave him a gentle smile. “We're the ones who came to surprise you.”

“Are you okay?” Roxas nodded his head towards the hallway where Xemnas had vanished around a corner. “It can't be easy to have to deal with him again. You're brave to do that.”

Roxas's words twisted in Isa's gut. He wondered how much they knew. They were little more than children. Surely Axel then, and Lea now, had not cared to share with them in any great detail what had gone on between Saïx and Xemnas. Did Roxas and Xion think Saïx, too, had been nothing but a victim, as they had been? Or did they know anything of just how much Saïx had sought out his place on the ladder, all too keen to slot himself just below Xemnas in every way he could?

“I’m fine. He is…” Isa sighed. “Not the same Xemnas you knew. You don’t need to concern yourselves.” He crossed his arms, composing himself enough to offer them a smile of his own that he hoped was reassuring enough to change the subject. “What brings you to Radiant Garden?”

“You've been by yourself here for a while now, and Ienzo said you could use some company.” Xion reached into her bag, pulling out a stick of ice cream and offering it to him. “I hope it's not too melted—we tried to hurry here from the ice cream shop.”

Isa took the stick of ice cream, looking at it for a moment as he absorbed Xion's words. Ienzo had told them to come? That was… embarrassing. Had Isa seemed so pitiful? He didn’t think he had been coming across that way in his work. “You came just to see me? That was thoughtful of you,” he murmured, twisting the stick between his fingers. He wondered if it was Lea’s way of checking on him, too. 

Glancing between the two, he thought for a moment before he offered, “Have either of you seen much of the city? If you’ve come all this way, I could show you around, if you’d like.”

Isa did tend to coop himself up. Maybe that was what Ienzo had been picking up on. In any case, he was certainly feeling like he could use some fresh air, his thoughts still spinning towards Xemnas. 

Xion seemed to brighten, especially in Xemnas’s absence. “I’d like that.” 

“Yeah. It’d be cool to see where you and Axel grew up.” Roxas rummaged in Xion’s bag to pull out another stick of ice cream, unwrapping it and taking a bite. “And we can catch up some more. You’re not very good at texting.”

Isa huffed at him, but ultimately chuckled and shook his head. “Fair enough. I suppose I can show you a few spots.” 

They left the castle, heading out through the front gates towards the plaza and nibbling at their ice cream so that it didn’t melt. Aeleus and Dilan didn’t look to be guarding today, and Isa didn’t mind not having to pass by Dilan in particular. He led the two through the fountain square and towards the market district, doing his best not to seem too distracted. He expected they, too, had at least a few lingering thoughts on running into Xemnas, but it seemed an unwritten rule had woven itself into the air when it came to not talking about him. Isa wasn’t sure whether that was a relief or if it troubled him. Instead, he began to quietly point out old childhood haunts as they walked, keeping his face mostly tucked behind the collar of his jacket.

“Oh, yeah. Axel told us to tell you sorry he couldn’t make it,” Roxas said as they passed one of the restored fountains on the way to the markets, and Isa was glad he already tended to look stiff by nature.

“Ah… that’s all right.” Isa could only imagine it would have been worse had Lea also been there to see Isa speaking so familiarly with Xemnas again. “How is he?”

“He misses you lots.” Xion was the last to finish her ice cream, and she looked down at the last few bites, twisting the stick to keep the dessert from dripping. “But he said you’d probably still feel bad about coming back here, so he also told us to tell you not to worry about that, and to keep doing whatever you’ve gotta do.” She smiled up at him, soft, sweet, and a little sad. “Roxas and I have missed you too, though.”

Xion was so very good at delivering the kindest words that could cut Isa right to the bone. He hoped his inhalation wasn’t too audibly sharp. “I miss him, too.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, pretending to examine some of the greenery they passed by. “And I’ve missed you both, as well.”

“Don't get all mopey on us.” Roxas nudged his arm with a fist. “How've you been? Is it nice to be back home?”

So even Roxas and Xion could tell that Isa struggled to feel like Twilight Town was home. Isa wasn't sure that all of Radiant Garden felt like home all the time, either—but the moon here did, that was for certain. “It has… been good for me, I think,” he brought himself to admit. “Finding my footing here again.”

“That's good. There must be a lot of memories here.” Xion polished off her ice cream, tossing the stick in a bin. 

Roxas stretched his arms above his head, then laced his fingers behind it. “Plus you're around all those guys from the old days, too. That must be a handful.”

“It's not too bad. I think everyone has changed a great deal from who we were in the Organization, for the most part.” Isa glanced up at the grand castle, always visible in their periphery. He didn't plan to mention Xemnas again to them outright, and truth be told, he wouldn't be too shocked if Xemnas himself was one step too far to forgive. But… it would be nice, if one day Isa didn't have to feel so wretchedly guilty for where his affections had come to lie. “A fresh start seems to have done everyone good.”

Xion nodded gently, but by her next statement seemed inclined to change the subject. “Speaking of fresh starts—it looks like there are a lot of new buildings here. Does it still feel like where you grew up?” 

Isa hummed, pulling his hair over his shoulder. “Enough has remained for it all to still be familiar.” Some buildings were gone, new ones rebuilt in their places, and certain elements of the city had been changed to better accommodate reconstruction, but the foundations of his home world still stood. All the same, Isa silently shouldered a great deal of blame for sections of damage that had been wrought—Saïx had been all too happy to unleash hordes of Heartless into this world if it had meant he would come one step closer to regaining his heart, after all. 

Pushing aside the twinging in his chest that always came with such thoughts, he pointed towards an alleyway, continuing to make good on his promise from earlier. “For example—right through there was one of Lea's favorite spots to practice with his frisbees when we were a little younger than you.”

Roxas snorted. “Frisbees… that's so dorky.”

“Well, he got good at using them eventually. It’s the way he learned to use his chakrams.” Isa smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The memories were bittersweet, as many thoughts of Lea had been lately. 

“What about you?” Xion asked as they trotted down the stairs towards the main market stalls. “Did you practice with a weapon when you were younger, too?”

“Not really. Believe it or not, I was always more of one for sneaking rather than roughhousing.”

“Really?” Roxas looked at him, clearly surprised. Considering Saïx's brutality between Berserk and a great, heavy claymore, Isa didn't blame him. “But you were such a strong fighter.”

“Lunatic was the first and only weapon I ever used,” Isa mused. He didn't ever feel particularly comfortable talking about himself or his past, but these two had uniquely few memories that belonged to them and them alone. The least he could do was share some of his own. “I was terrible with it, at first. It took years of practice before I could come close to wielding it properly.”

They paused near a railing, and Roxas hopped up to sit on it. “I never saw you train or anything back then. I’d always just assumed you were a natural.”

“Far from it. I was the weakest link in the Organization for years.” Isa's voice grew quieter, more distant in thought. “It took half a decade before I learned to channel the moon's power, and longer than that to control it. I trained constantly. Usually while the rest of you were away on missions.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Xion gingerly asked, “Did Xemnas make you…?”

Isa did his best to keep his expression impassive, jaw set. “No. He didn't.” Saïx had done his utmost to draw Xemnas's eyes to him, and though Xemnas had eventually come to nurture Berserk and the might that came with it, it was Saïx who had always chased power for his own reasons. “I wanted to be the strongest. I did whatever I had to to achieve that.”

Xion didn't look convinced, and Isa regretted letting the conversation turn towards heaviness—Lea wasn't even here to lighten it for them. He turned to lean his arms on the railing, looking out over the Great Maw. There were cranes and other demolition equipment gathered at the base of Villain's Vale; the last Isa had heard, its teardown was set to commence within the next few days. Good riddance. 

“Well… you did get really strong,” said Xion, sounding like she was trying to be encouraging. “Do you still train?”

It was a fair question—she and Roxas still sparred with either Keyblades or Struggle bats, and Lea, too, also trained often with them or with Kairi. However, Isa gave a dry laugh and shook his head. “No. I'm not even certain I can still summon Lunatic. I haven't tried.”

He had used his claymore to do too many horrible things. He didn't need that reminder lying heavy in his palm.

“Maybe you could end up using a Keyblade, too.” Roxas grinned at him, half-joking. “I mean, if Axel can do it, you could, too, right?”

That got a heartier chuckle out of Isa. “I'll leave the Keyblade wielding to you three, I think,” he said with a smirk. 

The three of them ended up exploring the market district, with Isa showing them back alley shortcuts and sharing a few childhood stories in between updates from Xion and Roxas about how school was going. As the sun began to set, he realized that this was the longest he had ever spent in their company without Lea. Aside from a few awkward moments, it had been far from as agonizing as Isa had so long been concerned about. If anything, it had been… pleasant, reminiscing aloud, letting pieces of his past self come into the light rather than being locked so furiously away.

Had he learned anything by now, it was that things could, and often ought to, change, resistant to it as he had so often been.

“It's getting late,” Xion eventually said, checking the time. “We should probably get going. But it's been great to spend time with you, Isa. Thanks for showing us around.”

“Thank you for coming to see me.” Isa had always feared being alone, being unwanted, and yet he had spent so much time isolating himself in one way or another, even while around others. It was strange, he thought, that giving himself more space to breathe made it easier to both recognize and accept their outreach. He still had his fears, but he was slowly coming around to the idea that Roxas and Xion may not mind his presence so much, after all. “It… means a lot that you would think to.” 

“Of course.” Roxas knocked a fist against Isa's shoulder with a grin. “You're our friend.”

“We'll tell Axel you said hi, too.” Xion looked up at him with big blue eyes that were genuine and sweet, and Isa's heart ached for a hundred reasons. Still, he gave her an appreciative smile, and ventured so far as to lift a hand and ruffle her hair. 

“Please do. And travel safely.” 

Xion giggled. “We will.”

The gummi ship was there to pick them up, and Isa bade them goodbye as they boarded. They flew off, and he sighed. It had been a long day. But the sun would finish setting, and the moon would rise, and Isa looked forward to seeing its face as he did every night. He could seek Xemnas out tomorrow, and surely then they could find a time and place to talk.

He was heading back to the castle, still a few streets away from the central plaza, when it happened. At first he thought it may have been construction when he felt the sudden rumbling, distant between his feet. But then the sensation grew closer, stronger, until a tremor seemed to shake the very earth, shuddering through the nearby buildings and sending their windows rattling.

An earthquake? Isa held onto a wall to keep himself stable, his brow knitting tight as his eyes lanced around, trying to see more of what was happening. Earthquakes weren’t unheard of in Radiant Garden, but he had encountered very few here, himself, and anything that promised even a hint of further destruction spiked his nerves, natural or otherwise. 

A few people exited their homes, looking around in alarm, but the tremor began to fade as quickly as it had come, likely leaving behind little more than a few knocked-down picture frames and some creaking as the buildings settled again. Isa frowned as he straightened, looking at the castle towering on the horizon. Surely they had felt it there, too. Knowing Even and Ienzo, the scientists were probably triangulating the earthquake’s point of origin already. It hadn’t been severe, thankfully, but Isa was still unsettled. Maybe he had just grown hyper-cautious of any disturbances of the peace.

Once he finally got back to the castle, Isa found himself going towards the lab rather than heading for his room as he had first been planning. Upon doing so, however, he was surprised to find that Dilan, Even, Aeleus, and Ienzo were all already in Ansem's office, alongside Ansem himself. And they somehow looked like they were wrapping up—not that they had all just arrived. There was certainly a sense of tension already in the air, but Isa supposed an earthquake would do that.

“Isa—hello. Are you all right? We’re gathering details from the seismograph now,” Ienzo said as soon as he saw Isa. “The shockwaves don’t look to be severe, but it was startling, that’s for certain.” The young man was speaking almost too fast, as he tended to when he was nervous, and it didn’t help Isa’s unease.

“You all got here quickly,” Isa remarked, glancing between Ansem and the four apprentices. Something told him they had all been here before the earth had started rattling. 

“We were already seeing to some business before the walls started to shake,” Dilan ended up answering him pointedly, arms folded across his broad chest. “Ienzo said you were out in town, so don’t start to get fussy because you weren’t invited.”

Isa’s lips pursed, wondering how much of the paranoia that comment induced was due to his own nerves and how much was legitimate. “I see. I just thought I’d come check in.”

“It was only a minor earthquake,” Even reassured him, seeming to cast Dilan a sharp look. “We're keeping an eye on the readings in case it ends up looking like there may be more, but for now, things appear to be fine.”

Dilan was already leaving by the time Even finished speaking, and he cast Isa a rather cold look of his own from the corner of his eye. But he was gone shortly after, and Aeleus had followed silently at his heel, stony face impassive. He hadn't looked at Isa.

Isa folded his arms, watching them go. He knew he could be oversensitive, but he was unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, or that he was being left in the dark. It wasn’t that he felt the need to be part of every discussion, but he had been requested to join the meetings the apprentices had been holding since he arrived, as far as he knew.

Am I just overthinking?  

“I'm glad it doesn't look to be anything severe,” he murmured, pushing aside the strange dread that had settled in his belly with the earthquake. 

“Do not be troubled, Isa.” Ansem was sitting at his desk, one hand resting atop the other. “You ought to rest. You appear pale, and Even tells me you work exhaustlessly.”

Isa shook his head. “The work is no trouble, but I will bid you goodnight if there is nothing else that requires my attention. Even, Ienzo—tell me if there is anything additional I can help with.” Perhaps he sounded a little more pointed than he intended, but at least he knew he had sounded far worse on occasions in the past.

“We will, my boy,” said Even, folding his hands behind his back. Ienzo had remained oddly quiet. “I appreciate all you have already assisted with. ”

Maybe Isa really was just being tired and paranoid. Stars above knew it wouldn't have been the first time. Taking a breath, Isa gave the rest of them a nod before finally heading off to bed. 

He had his desk in front of the window, and the slow-rising moon was just beginning to spill its first few beams of milky light onto the desk's surface. Taking a seat, Isa peered out the window, up at the familiar, radiant moon, seeking solace in the wordless way it still seemed to speak to him.

And yet it didn't bring him easy sleep tonight. Rather, he felt as though a warning flowed within the otherworldly influence it shared with him; a sense that something, still, was not quite right. Gazing up at its face, scar knit in focus, Isa stayed awake long into the night, and he listened, an attentive disciple for any sign or symbol the moon might offer him.

Eventually, it came to him; an uncanny confirmation of the unconscious sense that had been nagging at him since he had felt the ground shake. 

There had been something unnatural about that earthquake. 

Chapter Text

Xemnas had spent the vast majority of his life with little to no care for his own mortality. Throughout the eras of both Organizations, he had always known he was doomed one way another, so why fret that he may one day die? What did life and living matter to a man designed for neither? He had not cared about the prospect of death, just as he had not cared about many other things—either out of too much pride to believe it would ever come for him, or out of bland recognition of its inevitability, depending on the day. He had died, twice, and the second time he even met its embrace with acceptance. But then he had been recompleted, despite all odds, and those first few weeks of new life had been nearly too agonizing to stomach. His waking hours, and many of those spent sleeping, too, had been laden with the desire to return to the nothingness from whence he came, alongside the expectation that such a terminal fate would be executed for him one day sooner or later. The promise of fading away in the midst of his heartache had seemed a balm rather than a fear.

It was not until he met the resentful gazes of the two young Keyblade wielders in the hall that day that Xemnas was struck, at long last, with the overwhelming sense that he did not want to die.

Any member of his former order had a right to want to kill him, but Roxas and Xion especially. And they very well could, should their hatred for him ever come to swell. Xemnas no longer underestimated any wielders of the Keyblade such as they; he knew the strength they possessed was plumbed from depths Xemnas was sure he could not reach. Powerful though he had been as Superior of the In-Between, he had been bested by Keyblade wielders more than once, and he did not doubt that he could be bested again, if they ever chose to follow the desire to strike him down. 

All he could do was be thankful that, as Ansem had once said, the warriors of Light tended to be far more merciful than the company Xemnas once kept.

A tumult had crashed its way through him as he escaped through the halls towards his bedroom after their encounter, a beast slinking back to its den. He had been so close—Isa had been so close, magnificent and bold, and his fingers had brushed so near to Xemnas’s throat, and they had been so close to speaking, truly speaking, at last. Isa, despite it all, was willing to share his company, and all it would have taken was a few more moments for them to find a private place to converse. A place for Xemnas to bare his heart and tell Isa all that he should have told him long ago. 

Perhaps it was an omen that they had been interrupted as they were. There may be other chances to speak, yes, but it was clear from their brief interaction that Roxas and Xion had grown close to Isa. Isa had brought them back, after all, and Xemnas knew the way Isa both valued and expressed devotion. Even if Terra and Ansem were right, even if Isa did harbor anything in his heart for Xemnas, why would he ever choose that above those others whom he held dear? When that could lead their ire back to him, too?

Xemnas passed a hand over his face as he scaled the stairs to his bedroom, his heart rate only just beginning to return to normal by the time he got there. He took a long, slow breath before his door, peering down the steep stairwell for a moment as he attempted to ground himself. 

He had been caught off guard. That was all. Whether or not Isa would ever want anything more from Xemnas again, he still deserved to know that he was special. That he was… loved. As he always should have been, and always should have known. Even if it was too late, Xemnas wanted him to know that, now. There would be another day, and Xemnas could try again. He owed it to Isa to try. Perhaps tomorrow would bring another opportunity. 

With a sigh, he at last turned his doorknob and entered his room, keen on brooding at his desk for a few hours before bed. 

He didn't make it far. 

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

Xemnas froze, his hand still on the doorknob, and he wondered suddenly if the entire day had all just been part of some strange dream, after all. It was the only explanation he could come up with in the moment to explain the figure he saw sprawled across his bed.

“Don't just look at me like a fish out of water, Xemnas. Close the door before we get in trouble.” Assertive, casual, lilting. Xemnas had not thought he would hear that voice ever again.

He slammed the door shut all at once, standing in front of it as he gazed wide-eyed at his bed. It was currently taken up by the man who had been Xemnas's oldest, closest partner in crime—a man Xemnas had thought was long and forever gone. Yet there he was, eyepatch and ponytail and cocky smirk, all, his hands laced behind his head where it lay on Xemnas's pillow. 

“Xigbar?”

“The one and only.” Xigbar huffed before kicking himself up to sit off the side of Xemnas's bed, hands dangling between his legs. He looked plucked right out of the past, still clothed in the black coat, his remaining eye still glittering gold. Xemnas's heart leapt at the sight of him—an old friend, my first companion—before something cold began to twist through his chest. 

He did not know if he and Xigbar were on the same side anymore. 

“What are you doing here?” Xemnas's voice came out flat and stilted in his shock, and he remained perfectly still right in front of the door, more questions than he could possibly organize lancing through his head. 

“You don't sound very excited to see little old me.” Xigbar shot him a playful grin, cocking his head to the side. “And here I was, thinking we'd have a heartfelt reunion. We sure had a lot of fun together, didn't we?”

Xemnas did not have words for the conflicted feelings roiling throughout his entire body. There was a part of him that wanted to grin in return, to go to Xigbar and embrace him, to ask him where have you been? Why did you not come back sooner? 

The other part of him feared that a fight had been brought to his new home. That Xigbar brought with him the past and all the pain in it. There was so much Xemnas still did not know about Xigbar, though Xigbar knew everything about him. 

Xemnas did not reply, still as though he were frozen in time.

“Geez. You'd think you just saw a ghost.” Xigbar stood up, a hand on his hip as he appraised his old accomplice. “You look good, Xemnas.”

“You, as well.” Xemnas spoke softly, and his posture was guarded, though he made no move to approach, himself. 

Xigbar snickered, and Xemnas wondered why. For as long as they had known one another, Xigbar had always seemed to know so much more than Xemnas did. “I guess I'd better clear up that I'm not here to start any trouble, believe it or not. At least not on purpose,” said Xigbar, lifting his hands and shaking his head as though in surrender. “And I can't stay long. I've got my own business, as you've probably had figured out for a while. But I came here for you, Xemnas. There's something I wanna help with.”

As he so often did, Xigbar raised more questions than he answered, but Xemnas allowed some relief to flood through him at his former comrade's words. Finally, he moved, taking a few steps towards Xigbar. “Forgive my shock. I… hardly expected to see you again. Let alone here.” In Xemnas's bedroom. How many more times would Xemnas walk in to find it already occupied, he wondered?

“Yeah, pardon the little intrusion. Didn't mean to startle you, but I couldn't exactly come waltzing in here through the front door. I’m trying to keep a low profile.” Xigbar wandered over to the bookshelves, tapping a few spines. “Cozy spot you've got here. Leaves something to be desired after your old room, but it seems like you're a pretty good sport, now, all things considered.”

Xigbar was just as Xemnas remembered. He commanded the room, demanded attention without effort, and failed to get to the point with any haste.

Xemnas had dearly missed him. 

“My friend,” he said with a low chuckle. He remained wary, just in case, but found himself hoping desperately that Xigbar was being honest about his intentions. “I have too many questions for you to possibly answer, but I would take at least a cursory explanation for this visit, first.”

“I guess I owe you that much.” Xigbar had always tended to move a lot, as though he were restless, gesturing with his arms or striding about the room as he spoke. But when he turned back to Xemnas, he was quite still. His easy-going facade appeared to have slipped for a split second, and a grim look passed over his angular face. “I came here to warn you. There's trouble brewing, and I don't want you to get hit harder by it than you have to.”

A chill went through Xemnas's blood, and the slight smile faded from his face. He was, more than anything else, confused. But once again, pinpricks of fear, too, began to skirt under his skin. “What do you mean?”

“I'll be perfectly honest with you: I can't tell you everything. I'm already in hot water coming here, as it is, and I really shouldn’t be interfering at all, but—” Xigbar sighed roughly. “The long and short of it is that this world's in danger. It has been for a while, and things are coming to a head again.” Xigbar came closer to Xemnas, and he placed a hand on his upper arm, giving it a squeeze. “I’ve been keeping an eye on things here. Couldn’t help it. You know me—always keeping ‘em both open, even when I’ve only got the one.” Xigbar’s touch fell away as soon as it had landed, and he turned away, shrugging his hands in the air. “You could say I ended up digging a little too deep. Turns out it’s just a matter of time before this whole world’s overrun with Heartless.”

Xemnas’s head was spinning. His arm felt warm where Xigbar had squeezed it, and he took a step after him as soon as Xigbar turned around. “There have been more Heartless of late, yes, but there has been great effort put into mitigating any possibility of invasion,” Xemnas murmured, hesitant. “However… what have you found?”

Xigbar looked over his shoulder, his clever eye meeting Xemnas’s. “So you do still trust me.”

“Should I not?” Reasonably, that answer was no, you shouldn’t. Not when Xigbar had appeared so suddenly. Not after Xemnas had observed first-hand just how closely tied Xigbar and Master Xehanort had been, beyond Xemnas himself. But he could not bring himself to distrust Xigbar as he perhaps ought to.

Xemnas had referred to all the members of his Organization as his companions, his friends, but there were always too many lies, too many twisted parts of him for that to be wholly true, even if the depths of him had yearned for it to be the case. Even Saïx, whom Xemnas had, in his way, held so dear, had patently not been privy to all that Xemnas was, all that he was working towards. Xigbar was the only one who knew, back then. The only one to whom Xemnas ever spoke freely, openly, truthfully. And they had spoken often, machinated together, Xigbar often bringing Xemnas bits of gossip and tidbits of the others’ schemes like a crow gathering up shiny objects for its keeper. It was only to Xigbar that Xemnas had felt wholly free to philosophize about himself, about their grand goal, about what all of it meant. If there was anyone Xemnas could have called a true friend, it had been Xigbar. Just as he did not care that Saïx had plotted against him behind his back, Xemnas did not care that Xigbar kept secrets of his own.

“Well, no. But I’m glad you do, because I mean all this,” Xigbar answered, hands on his hips. “These Heartless aren’t just showing up out of the blue. I’ve been keeping tabs on another old friend, and it seems like she’s still nursing quite the grudge. Seems to think we owe her a castle.”

Xemnas’s brow knit, deep in thought for a moment as he wracked his brain. Then it dawned on him, his eyes widening. “...The witch?”

“Yup. Maleficent. Remember her?” Xigbar went and perched on the edge of Xemnas’s desk, legs dangling off the side. “I’m not sure how she manages it, but she just keeps popping back up. She’s been breeding Heartless for the last few months, and from what I can tell, it looks like she’s just about ready to let ‘em loose. I’ll bet she’s trying to get two birds with one stone—take over this castle again, and get revenge for the Organization causing her problems in the old days, too.”

It was far from an unreasonable possibility, and Xemnas, with all his expertise when it came to the realm of spinning falsehoods, could not determine a reason for Xigbar to lie about it. However, he still wondered— “Why come here to tell me this?” Xemnas followed Xigbar to the desk, and he took a seat in his chair, still feeling like he was reeling as he gazed up at his former left hand. 

Xigbar grinned down at him, and though the waning sunlight cast harsh shadows on his scarred face, there was almost a strange genuineness to the look. He leaned down, and he reached out for a strand of Xemnas’s hair, twirling it between his fingers. “Ten years’ll give you a soft spot for somebody. You, of all people, should know that.”

Xemnas could not help but smile, but it was sad and small, and he found his head leaning towards Xigbar’s hand on sheer instinct. “I would not have thought yourself the type for sentimentality.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.” Xigbar snorted, and it was a dismissive sound, but he brushed his knuckles along Xemnas’s cheek before he drew his hand away again. He turned to look out the window, and his expression was impossible to read, too wreathed in shadow even if he wasn’t already an expert at masking his innermost thoughts. “I can’t stick around. But I thought the least I could do was give you a favor after all the good times we had. I met a lot of versions of the old man, Xemnas, but you were always my favorite. I’m glad you’ve gotten another shot. I want it to work out for you the best it can.” 

Something within Xemnas ached, deep into his core, and he placed a hand on Xigbar’s knee. Casual touch between them had been commonplace for as long as he could remember, and any touch at all now felt like a blessing to Xemnas. “You could stay here. Join me again.” No, that most likely wasn’t Xemnas’s call to make, but if the apprentices were all right with Xemnas here, then surely they would be willing enough to give Xigbar—Braig?—another chance, too?

“No, I can’t,” Xigbar replied, however, and it was curt and serious, moreso than Xemnas was used to hearing from him. Xigbar patted Xemnas’s hand on his knee, then gently nudged it aside to slide up off the desk.  “As much as I’d like to. I’ve got another role to play. But… yeah. Call me sentimental, but I want to see you win, this time. Even though it’s gotta be from a distance.”

Xemnas did not understand the what or why of this other role, and perhaps he ought to have pressed the subject further, but he did not. He simply looked up at Xigbar, and his gaze was doleful. Lonely. It was selfish, considering he did not know what Xigbar’s ultimate goals were, but he found himself hoping that Xigbar may still one day see fit to visit him beyond just this, regardless of what the man had said. “You’re warning me so that I can be the one to warn the others,” he mused, his hands coming to rest in his lap.

“You’ve really perfected that kicked puppy look, you know that?” Xigbar’s words were gruff, but his crooked smile was softer, almost more muted than the one Xemnas remembered. As though there was even more on his mind than there had been before. He came around behind Xemnas, bending down to sling an arm around his shoulder, and that aching place in Xemnas’s chest yawned wider. “Yes. That was the plan. It’ll be an opportunity for you to play the hero. Save the day, and they’re bound to finally trust you. Maybe you’ll finally get to stretch your legs.” Xigbar leaned forward enough for their eyes to meet, and the corner of his mouth curled upward, a sharp canine peeking out from under his lip. “And it won’t hurt your chances with Bluebell.” 

Xigbar had never been wholly clear about just how he always came to know so much. Xemnas had never cared to ask. Nor would he ask now; why would Xigbar tell him such things today if he hadn’t already? Regardless, it seemed the Freeshooter’s powers of observation—or perception—hadn’t lost their touch. 

Xemnas blinked at him, long and slow. “You truly do this out of kindness for me?”

“Yeah. You could say that.” Xigbar reached up and lightly pinched his cheek. “You got dealt a bad hand for so long, I figured someone could finally cut you some slack.”

At that, Xemnas could only laugh, his head tossing back. Despite the foreboding news, despite the shock of Xigbar's arrival, despite the heightened emotions from earlier that day, he felt a strange ease in Xigbar’s company. “The vast majority of those poor cards were my own doing, and mine alone.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re all guilt-ridden and reformed now,” Xigbar replied with a cackle of his own, pushing himself up off Xemnas’s shoulder. Xemnas followed him once more, rising to his feet so they could stand face to face, and Xigbar seemed to simply look at him for a moment, as though that bright eye of his were memorizing and calculating everything it saw. The grin faded again to a more subdued smile, and Xigbar closed his eye and shook his head with a quiet tch. “Whether or not you deserve it—and let’s face it, none of us do—I want you to have a happy ending, Xemnas. And he’s part of it.”

Xigbar had been the first to know of Xemnas’s burgeoning affections for Saïx. He had seen it before even Xemnas himself, and by a large margin. Of course he would know even still that those feelings had far from waned.

“I would like him to be,” admitted Xemnas, soft and sincere. He supposed that would be unfamiliar to Xigbar, but Xigbar seemed unphased.

“So help him save his world. That does wonders as a courting gesture, I’ve heard.” Xigbar gave him a wolfish, knowing smirk, though there was still something far behind his eye that Xemnas couldn’t quite read. “Anyway—it’s been under that bunch of ugly towers outside the city that the witch has been gathering Heartless, as far as I’ve been able to tell. There’s already some residual darkness lingering there that’s made it easier for her to hide just how many she’s got.”

Xemnas’s eyebrows rose. “Villain’s Vale? It is set to be destroyed within the next few days.”

“Then you don’t have a whole lot of time,” Xigbar said, his voice once again having gone grave. “All that’ll do is let the mess loose. That might even be what she’s planning on.”

“In that case… I will make certain Ansem the Wise and the others know this as soon as possible.”

“Good call.” Again, Xigbar looked off out the window, towards the violets and blues of the horizon. “I can’t help you more than this. Not this time. But make sure it pays off, me tipping you off like this.”

“I will try.” The sense of Xigbar’s imminent departure was looming, and it sank in Xemnas’s belly alongside the weight of Xigbar’s warning. “Thank you, my friend.”

Xigbar’s mouth quirked upward. “Don't mention it.” There was a sigh, and Xigbar held out a hand, a portal of darkness seeping up out of the ground. “I’ve already been here too long. Don’t want you to get caught with me. People might start getting the wrong ideas.”

Xemnas shook his head. “I would vouch for you, if you ever wished to return to us.”

All he got in return was an amused look. “Look at you. All softened up. Don’t worry about me, Xemnas. Focus on what’s already here. I just wanted to give you a little boost towards all of it, that’s all.” He stepped towards the inky portal, tendrils of darkness curling away into wisps around his boots. “I gotta go. Do me a favor, by the way, and don’t mention I was here. Trust me, it’ll be more trouble than it’s— oof —!”

Xemnas was not sure where the instinct came from. Some distant, lingering part of Terra, perhaps, or maybe the rest of the day’s emotional turmoil had left him without his usual restraint. Or perhaps he had just been so achingly lonely for so long, so desperate for human touch. Regardless of what it was, he pulled his old friend into an embrace, a simple, awkward hug that lasted just too long yet not long enough. He felt Xigbar stiffen at first, and then he eased up, simply patting Xemnas’s back once, twice before they broke apart.

Xigbar looked up at him, and it was the first time Xemnas had ever seen him look so tired—and then that expression was wiped away again behind that indomitable smirk. Still, Xemnas could only think, are you lonely, too? 

“I already knew you’d gone soft, but hell, Xemnas, not that soft.”

Xemnas only chuckled. “Forgive me. I am still growing used to the impulses a heart brings. It has been… good to see you, despite the circumstances.” 

“Sappy bastard.” Xigbar shook his head, huffing at Xemnas through his nose. “Who knows. Maybe I will be able to stop by again someday, after all.”  

That was the first time during this visit that Xemnas got the sense Xigbar was not telling the truth.

“Goodbye, Xigbar,” Xemnas said quietly, and he did not like how final it felt.

“Later, Xemnas. Make sure me coming out of my way was worth it.” Xigbar waved over his shoulder, then glanced back at him over it as he stepped into the corridor. “And maybe after this little mess is over, tell Isa that ol’ Xigbar sends his regards. Preferably while you’re in bed next to him again.” He shot Xemnas one last grin, wicked and knowing, and with that he was gone, swallowed up by the corridor as it dispersed from sight.

Xemnas stood there for a long few moments, lost in thought and feeling. He closed his eyes, and he exhaled, one of his hands pressed to his chest as he focused on the sensation of the gentle rhythm he could feel beneath his palm. 

What a day it had been. He did not know what he should be feeling, by this point. The amount of whiplash between relief and panic he had undergone across the last few hours left him nearly dizzy, and even now they melded into a harsh knot in his gut.

Xigbar was alive and well. He cared for Xemnas, even still. 

Maleficent, too, persisted, once again sticking her nose in places it did not belong.

There was indeed danger on the horizon, word brought by an old friend, and Xemnas could only be grateful that his course of action this time was a path clearly paved in front of him. 

He did not want to waste any more time. He hurried back towards the laboratory once more, and he pulled out his gummiphone to deliver a message to Even as he went:

“There is an urgent matter. I must speak to all of you. Gather in Ansem’s office.

-X”

Chapter Text

Isa could not sleep. That in itself was not all too out of the ordinary, but his agitation was different that night. There was a strange wrongness in the air; questions he couldn't conjure the words of, let alone the answers to. He had always been prone to senses of premonition, odd feelings that lingered between paranoia and reality yet unseen. It had been some time since he had felt such a sense so strongly, but there beneath the light of the moon, his childhood moon, he felt to his very core that something was amiss. Thus sleep had elected to evade him, and Isa felt no real impulse to chase after it. Instead, he dressed back to the point of decency, slipping on his shoes before stealing out of his room, intent on traversing back down towards the laboratory. It was the middle of the night, yes, but he had been given lab access, after all. As much as he had tried to change for the better, one vice he had yet to abandon was snooping.

He wanted to know more about that earthquake. Where it had come from, if there was anything else the scientists had found, anything else he could find. He strode with purpose down the halls—if there was one thing he'd learned in order to avoid being questioned, it was to act like he had full intention and authority to be wherever he was. The moonlight seeped through the windows in the upper halls, but the number of those windows lessened as he went lower until at last he reached the windowless office that led to the laboratory. He recalled from past recon that there had once been a large portrait on the wall of the young silver-haired Xehanort that had been an apprentice here. The man in the painting was not quite the Master Xehanort Saïx had dealt with, and not quite Xemnas, either, from what little Isa could recall. It was like he was both and neither, some kind of ghost that haunted the halls of the past. Isa expected his portrait had been tossed in a trash heap somewhere, if not destroyed outright.

Isa lingered for a moment, looking at the space on the wall where the portrait had once been, before he slipped through the doorway that led to the laboratory.

He was relieved to hear that it sounded quiet in the lab. It wouldn't be impossible for someone else to already be here, but especially given how odd the air had felt in Ansem's office earlier, he would prefer to do his digging without anyone looking over his shoulder. Sure enough, the lab looked empty when he rounded the corner, and Isa went straight for the computer overlooking the former Heartless manufactory, punching in the passwords he had been provided— Sora, Donald, Goofy. Surely whatever information they had found on the earthquake wouldn't be under any additional lockdown. 

Scrolling through a few files, Isa tried to find his way through the labyrinth of folders until he found something promising: a program labeled Seismog.mog. Opening it filled the screen with various charts and graphs. 

Ones that Isa, at face value, had no clue how to read. 

…Hm.

He did not have long to frown at the glow of the computer screen, however, before he was startled by a sudden, muffled clattering noise coming from somewhere behind him. He whirled around, watchful and paranoid, nerves on edge enough even without the added sleep deprivation, and he snapped, “Who's there?”

There was a shuffling sound, and then the supply closet door slid open to reveal a rather red-faced Ienzo alongside yet another familiar face.

“Ienzo?” Isa blinked. “Demyx?” 

Sure enough, the mulleted young man whom Saix had so often terrorized was peeking out from behind Ienzo’s shoulder, eyes blown wide. Isa had heard that Demyx had opted to hang around in Radiant Garden, but they had yet to cross paths. Isa assumed his was a presence Demyx would prefer to avoid, given how many clipboards had all but been smashed over Demyx’s head by Saïx’s hand.

“What are you doing here at this hour, Isa?” Ienzo sounded flustered and more short-tempered than usual.

“Scared the crap out of us!” Demyx cocked his head to the side, appraising the intruder in the laboratory with a nervous laugh. “Long time no see, X-face.”

“I apologize. I couldn’t sleep,” Isa muttered, glancing back at the glow of the computer screen. “I wanted to look into that earthquake.”

“It couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?” Ienzo stepped into the lab, Demyx trailing behind him.

“Perhaps. But I didn’t see any harm in coming down here anyway.” Isa stood awkwardly beside the computer, trying to hold onto any sense of confidence that he had as much a right to be here as any of the apprentices. As… Demyx? He cleared his throat, giving the young man a look up and down before casting his gaze aside. “It is… good to see you again, Demyx.”

“Whoa-ho, now that’s crazy to hear out loud.” Demyx’s eyebrows launched up his forehead, and he crept out from behind Ienzo, hands on his hips. “Ienzo was tellin’ me you’ve chilled out, and Vex—er, Even filled me in that you were behind the whole master plan with the replicas. But still— ‘it’s good to see you’ is a pretty big difference from ‘Demyx if you don’t have that report on my desk in an hour I’m having Xemnas turn you into a dusk.’ ”

Isa flushed, hiding away behind his collar. Demyx’s tone was lighthearted, and yet the words stung. It wasn’t as though they weren’t fair, but Isa was struck with the familiar pangs that came with being sharply reminded of his past shortcomings. “Yes. Much… has changed, I think.”

Ienzo had rather swiftly put some distance between himself and Demyx, going over to the computer, instead. “I tend to work here overnight, you know. Demyx assists me from time to time.” Most of Ienzo’s face was covered by his hair, but the tip of his visible ear was still bright red, while Demyx seemed rather oblivious or unbothered—Isa couldn't tell which. 

“I suppose I owe you my thanks.” Isa forced himself to look at Demyx. “You were invaluable in Vexen’s and my plan. We wouldn’t have been able to accomplish our goals were it not for you. Please take my thanks.” He paused, chewing on his inner cheek. “And I am… sorry. For how I treated you in the past.”

Demyx made a flippant hand gesture. “Hey, bygones are all bygones by now. I know you had your reasons for being so fussy all the time. Besides, seems like just about everybody has mellowed out a whole bunch these days. Mostly, at least—Dilan’s still pretty intense, huh?”

Isa made a noncommittal grunting sound, finding it difficult to meet Demyx's eyes. What did Demyx, of all people, know of why Saïx had been the kind of creature he was? Isa could not help but frown.

“Mm… well. I'd heard you had remained in Radiant Garden, but I wasn't aware you were also assisting here in the lab.”

“Well, Ansem—the old guy Ansem, not the one that looked like a version of Xemnas who actually learned how to style his hair—don't tell him I said that—anyway, Ansem offered to pay for an apartment in town if I'd let the apprentices here do some studies on my heart,” Demyx shrugged, pointing at the young scientist with a thumb. “I'm still technically a Nobody or whatever, I guess, but it turns out I've got a big ol’ heart all of my own right here, now that the old ugly Xehanort finally kicked the bucket.” He beat his fist lightly against his chest.

“Yes, Demyx has been very gracious to let us study the regrowth of a Nobody's heart,” Ienzo said rather quickly. He was flipping through displays of the various charts Isa couldn't read. “But you said you came here about the earthquake? I believe the seismic analysis should be complete by now.” 

Isa returned his attention to the computer, trying to reel his focus back. “Yes. I wanted to know where the shockwaves originated.” 

“Ohh, isn't this what you were saying Xemnas got busted for earlier, Ienzo?” Demyx had his hands on his hips, and he hadn't finished his sentence yet before Ienzo loudly cleared his throat over him. Isa couldn't fully see the look Ienzo cast at Demyx over his shoulder, but he noticed the way the young man had gone stiff before he fully registered what Demyx had said. 

His blood ran cold.

“What do you mean?” Isa's tone went deathly flat. 

“Oh. Whoops. Uh, sorry, I thought you'd know already.” Demyx was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, but Isa had turned his sharp gaze to Ienzo, the computer monitor forgotten. 

Ienzo, to Isa's dread, was visibly squirming, a taut line tugging at his mouth as he cast a beleaguered look at Demyx. What he’d felt in Ansem's office earlier was beginning to add up, and Isa folded his arms tight across his chest as if the motion might keep his whirlwind of thoughts under control.

“Ienzo.” His voice sounded brittle in his own ears. “What happened with Xemnas?”

Ienzo was hesitant before he spoke, and he avoided meeting Isa’s eyes. “He told us he needed to speak to all of us, and he… well, he brought us some strange news.” 

“Strange news? What are you talking about?”

Ienzo looked tense, like a small animal that had been backed into a corner. He seemed to be weighing his next words carefully. “He told us… that the witch Maleficent was here in Radiant Garden, and that she plans to lay siege to the castle. We asked him how he knew, but he refused to say anything about that particular matter.”

Shock shot across Isa’s features. He had gone through a hundred possibilities in his head already, but this wasn’t one of them. He remembered the witch well, of course—they had faced off with one another during the Organization’s own siege on Hollow Bastion, after all. But why was she here? Why did Xemnas know?

“What else did he say? Where is he now?” Isa heard Saïx coming out of his mouth with the interrogation, and he hated himself for it. Yet his nerves were on edge, and calm as he was trying to be, his negative feelings always shone through his surface stronger than any others.

Ienzo took a long, slow breath, seeming resigned. Demyx was giving him an apologetic look. “Xemnas said that she’s been amassing an army of Heartless far beneath Villain’s Vale,” Ienzo said quietly. “And that the tremor was her doing. Yet no matter what we asked, he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell us how he found this out. Master Ansem thought it best if Xemnas were to remain in his chambers while we investigated his claims.”

Declawed though he was trying to be, Isa was too disconcerted to keep his terseness entirely in check. “Ansem’s imprisoned him again?” he snapped at Ienzo. “Why wasn’t I told any of this?” 

“Xemnas came to us while you were out with Roxas and Xion. Even was worried about you—he didn’t want you to take more on your shoulders before we learned more about the situation.” Ienzo’s brows were furrowed, and it didn’t seem like he was being entirely forthcoming. Isa may have been more overtly angered by that fact, but in Ienzo’s visible eye, he saw something too close to fear flash at Isa’s mounting agitation. It was like he was afraid Berserk was going to rear its head at him. 

The frown tugging at Isa’s scar twitched, and though he was doing his best to stay docile, his words still came out frosty. “Or is it that they don’t trust me, either?”

The beat of silence that followed was just long enough to confirm his suspicions, and he felt his temper threatening to flare more than it had in months. He was confused, and he was hurt, and he was afraid. Was this what Xemnas had wished to speak to him about, earlier, he wondered? Had Terra been the one to tell him? No—Terra would have told everyone else, first. What else did Isa not know?

“Hey, big guy, take a few deep breaths,” Demyx said with a rather gingerly pat on Isa’s shoulder. “It sounds like Xemnas is only grounded or whatever until the eggheads here figure out what’s really going on.”

Isa didn’t care to know why Demyx seemed to think that was his primary concern, nor was he keen on making evident that Xemnas being confined yet again was of greater concern to him than it perhaps ought to be.

“That earthquake, then. Where did it come from?” His voice was clipped as his attention fell back on Ienzo, who seemed to be hiding behind his hair.

Ienzo frowned, going back to flipping between a few displays on the computer. There was a pause as he stopped on a particular chart, and the young man took a deep breath, looking even more troubled.

“...Wherever he learned it, Xemnas was right. The epicenter lines up right with Villain’s Vale.”

Demyx peered over Ienzo’s shoulder. “Eesh. What’s that mean, then?” 

“It means that we need to go take care of whatever is there.” Isa’s heart battered against his ribs, his mouth dry. His premonition of danger seemed to be proving correct, after all, and he did not like how many moving pieces to it there appeared to be. 

“We still don’t know for certain what that is.” Ienzo was furiously typing a few strings into the computer, shaking his head. “I know it isn’t what you want to hear, Isa, but there’s still a chance that this is a trap. Even if it’s not, it’s still dangerous. We’ll need to speak with Master Ansem tomorrow, maybe even the Restoration Committee, to determine our best course of action.”

A frustrated hiss of air shot quietly through Isa’s teeth. “And I expect I’ll be left out of that discussion, as well?”

“I mean, the cat’s already outta the bag, isn’t it? Might just be me, but I’m not sure what good that’d do,” Demyx ventured with a nervous shrug, looking between Isa and Ienzo. “If you’re gonna be mad at anybody, though, don’t be mad at Ienzo. He’s just doin’ his best here.”

“So am I.” Arms still folded, Isa squeezed his bicep rhythmically to keep himself composed. “I expect it was Dilan’s idea to keep me in the dark?”

Ienzo’s mouth slanted, already telling Isa all he needed to know. “He was just… he wanted to make sure Xemnas didn’t still have any control over you.”

The words sank like a dagger into Isa’s core. Maybe Dilan was right—even though it differed now from what was in their past, Xemnas did hold sway over Isa’s heart. Perhaps foolishly, Isa wanted so badly to trust him. He did trust him. And aside from Isa’s own inner turmoils, things here had seemed fine. Xemnas seemed to be working so hard for the sake of Radiant Garden. He seemed incapable of hiding his heart’s true feelings, now that it was complete. Isa did not want to believe that his own judgment had been wrong; that his feelings were even more misguided than he already feared. He was desperate for the apprentices’ doubts to be disproven. Desperate for himself to be proven right. 

“I see,” Isa muttered coldly.

“I’m sorry, Isa. It was all only a precaution. If it’s any consolation, I want to believe he was telling us the truth, and I do trust you. I know Even feels the same. We were just following Master Ansem’s advice.” Ienzo rested his hand to the side of the keyboard, and the guilt on his features was at least a small comfort.

“Think of it this way,” Demyx chimed in, placing his hand on Ienzo’s shoulder. “As long as the ex-bossman’s telling the truth, you don’t gotta worry about him, and you guys can focus on Malfeasance. Or whatever her name was.” 

“Regardless, we can’t do anything until we speak to Master Ansem tomorrow,” Ienzo said, looking weary. “Please, Isa, you ought to try and at least get a little rest tonight.”

Isa sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was tired, a headache pricking behind his eyes, but he knew there was no way he would be getting any more sleep tonight. “I suppose.”

He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to hear what Xemnas had said for himself, and he wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was brewing in the depths beneath Villain’s Vale. He was not about to sit idly by and let his world be destroyed again.

“We’ve all been through way worse than this, right?” Demyx made a dismissive wave of his hand with his attempt at encouragement. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Isa's temper was still simmering just beneath his skin, but to his surprise, Demyx’s words were… helpful. He was right; this could be nothing worse than anything else Isa had already experienced. 

“We’ll see what tomorrow brings, then,” he murmured, looking out over the defunct Heartless manufactory. He resolved that with Ansem’s permission or not, he would be getting his own hands dirty in this business with Maleficent. “Good night, then, Ienzo. Demyx.” 

“Isa—”

Despite Ienzo calling after him, Isa didn’t linger. Though he couldn’t wholly blame the young man, he was still angry that Ansem and the apprentices had all been fine with trying to pull wool over his eyes. He was angrier still that he understood why they had done so. If they didn’t trust Xemnas, why would they trust the man who continued to vouch for him?

There was indeed no sleep for him that night, and the moment dawn began to break over the horizon, the morning sun coaxing the eastern sky from blue-black to lavender, Isa gave up on merely lying in his bed stewing. He needed to act. 

He wasn’t going to bother waiting for another meeting with Ansem and the apprentices. He wanted to hear the news straight from Xemnas’s lips, and move forward from there. Even if there was magic put up to keep Xemnas in his room, as Ansem had made certain was a possibility, Isa supposed it would be to keep Xemnas in, not anyone else out. So he headed for Xemnas’s tower before most of the castle would be awake, footfalls quiet as he climbed the spiral staircase.

To his frustration and dismay, however, he found more than magic barring Xemnas’s door.

“I told Ansem it would only be a matter of time before you came up here. Though this was faster than I expected.” Dilan was sitting on a crate just to the right of the door, his lance across his lap, and Isa felt his face flush. “Apologies. He’s not currently taking visitors.”

Isa’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twitching. The door was shimmering under a visible enchantment, he noted. “Ienzo told me about what happened yesterday.”

“Did he, now?” Dilan grumbled. He seemed somewhat taken aback, but quickly recovered. “Then you know that this—” he loosely gestured around himself, “is a safety measure we needed to take.”

“No, I don’t,” Isa dared to shoot at him. “Because I heard nothing for myself. Trying to keep all of this a secret from me? Really? Do you trust me so little?”

“Yes. You and him both.” Dilan rose from his seat, but he kept his voice level. “Though I blame you less, if it’s any consolation.”

Isa’s lips pursed. “What are you talking about?”

“What Xemnas brought to us yesterday seemed far too like a bluff for my liking.” Dilan had his stern glare affixed to Isa, his violet eyes shining. “Out of nowhere, he gives us a mysterious warning about an old foe, acting like he expects us to take his word at face value. You really don’t find that absurd?” 

Isa looked at him in disbelief. “Even if it were a bluff, do you not think that Xemnas would be a far better liar than this? You’re right. It is absurd. There may be more at play here, but I don’t believe Xemnas is its orchestrator.”

“Of course you don’t. That would mean you would have to admit he’s been stringing you along, too.” Dilan stared down his nose at Isa. “Perhaps he’s merely playing dumb as a means to get us all distracted. Say we spread ourselves even thinner, going to Villain’s Vale—either there’s nothing there and he escapes while we’re away, or there’s a trap waiting for us. And even if he’s right about the witch being back, how would he have gotten that information without there being some scheme or another?” He shook his head. “Regardless of what you think, some overnight epiphany is not enough to spark my confidence.”

Isa’s glare was only sharpening the longer they spoke. “Then let me talk to him. Maybe he’ll tell me something more.” Xemnas had wanted to talk to him yesterday, and he had been honest with Isa ever since he had awoken. Hadn't he? 

“And prove me right? That he’s trying to get you in league with him again, if he hasn’t already?” Bitterness lay thick in Dilan’s words. “Are you blind, Isa? He’s using you. I suspected he might try to from the start, considering how quickly he got you under his thumb before. What was to stop him from doing so again?” The base of Dilan’s lance tapped against the floor. “Once he gets what he wants out of you, he will cast you aside. It’s what he’s always done. You, of all people, ought to know that.”

Infuriatingly quiet as they were, Dilan’s words scalded Isa. His nostrils flared. “Do you think I ever followed him blindly?” he hissed. “Do you truly think I was just some mindless pawn for all that time?”

“Whatever you may have been in the past, I think you are blinded now by what you clearly feel for him.” Dilan held his lance loose at his side, and his hand flexed. “You’ve been his favorite tool for years, and he’s gotten back under your skin already, has he not? You can’t resist a thing he says.”

It had been a long time since Isa had felt his scar truly threatening to split open in anger. His eyes narrowed, and his words were venomous. “How dare you pretend to know anything I feel.”

Dilan sneered. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I ought to ask Lea what he thinks.”

It was a low blow, and the stirrings of Berserk had Isa’s knuckles itching to collide with one of Dilan’s sideburns. His fists flexed at his sides. “Don’t even think about bringing him into this.”

Dilan scoffed, unimpressed. “You’re easier to read than you think, boy.”

The thread of Isa’s composure was worn thin enough as it was, and he wanted to snarl, to take out all of his pent-up frustration on someone, something. But he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, and that flying off the handle here would do nothing but make matters worse. Maybe that was exactly what Dilan wanted—for Isa to rise to the aggravation, to prove that the guardsman’s suspicions of his character were warranted. If nothing else, Isa didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Enough of this. You have your thoughts. I have mine.” Almost begrudgingly, Isa took a step back, though his glower was still cold as ice. “Whatever your paranoias are, I do care for this world. I would see to its safety alone, if I had to.” 

“I said the same thing, once.” Dilan’s expression was hard as stone. “And then I cast off my heart and this world anyway, because his word came to matter to me above all others. There is a reason I recognize what this is, Isa.”

“You recognize nothing.” Hard as he usually tried to keep it in check these days, Isa’s bitter, frost-bitten side was taking the opportunity to come out in full force. “But I see no use in trying to convince you otherwise. Think whatever you will about me, about Xemnas. Protect this world how you see fit. But I will do the same.”

Irritation flashed across Dilan’s face. “Oh? What are you intending to do, then?”

Isa was getting concerned about losing the tenuous handle he still had on his temper, and was already turning back towards the stairs. “More than standing around entertaining myself by pointing fingers.”

“Surely you don’t plan on going out there by yourself.” Isa heard the quiet tap of Dilan’s lance on the ground again. “Ansem would hardly permit that.” 

“I don’t answer to Ansem,” Isa replied flatly, casting a glare over his shoulder, and he watched a muscle flex in Dilan’s jaw. 

“You’re being foolish, Isa.” The guard’s voice rose for the first time, only slightly, just enough to carry clearly to Isa where he had his hand on the staircase railing.

“I’m well aware of your opinion,” was all Isa shot back. As he had with Ienzo in the lab, he left without hearing anything more Dilan might have had to say, burning no more time before storming off back the way he came.

The anger that seethed in his chest was strong. Frighteningly so. And as it had always been with him, that anger itself had germinated from seeds of fear. Isa feared losing this world again, losing the life he had just barely started to cobble together, and he did fear being cast aside, perhaps even back out of this world, should he fail to prove himself. Dilan hadn't been entirely wrong—Isa did want to trust in Xemnas in part as an extension of trusting in himself. If Xemnas could do the right thing, so could he. Couldn't he? 

He went back to his room, first, to gather his thoughts. 

Though he had hoped to get more information straight from Xemnas, he supposed he had enough to go off of already. The others could wait and debate all they liked, but Isa saw no point in wasting time when it was clear that something needed to be done. He had always thrived most when given a purpose, and, perhaps selfishly, he was desperate to distract himself—to expel the rage and fear that so easily consumed him, even still. He was barely learning how to navigate some semblance of a normal life. He would be damned if he let some upstart witch put any more hitches in it than there already were.

He went in front of his mirror, and the sight of his own face was never a welcome one. Frown lines were etched on either side of his mouth, and even with the color he had been born with, he felt his eyes always looked like those of a beast. He realized, too, that his scar did look subtly angry, the edges of it inflamed to a slightly darker shade of pink than usual. He wasn’t sure how Berserk would behave now that he was human again, but he supposed it was just a risk he would have to run.

What he had told Roxas and Xion earlier was the truth. His hand hadn’t held Lunatic ever since he had been recompleted. He’d never had reason to summon it, and he didn’t especially want to. But if there was any chance of battle again, he wanted to know that he still had a weapon. 

He took a slow breath, extending his hand in front of him, remembering how it felt to channel the moon’s power into his palm. Closing his eyes, it took a few moments longer than he remembered before his old weapon flashed back into being, heavy and powerful and cold. Its weight, though, was familiar as his fingers wrapped around the hilt, and he exhaled as he looked down at the claymore, loosely testing its balance again. To his surprise, however, it did not look exactly as he recalled it. At the end of the blade, where before a piece of the Nobody emblem had sat at the center of a circular crown of barbaric spikes, the prongs of the blade now radiated out on either side of an engraving of a heart—the same symbol that was on the other weapons and uniforms of Radiant Garden. His eyes widened.

He had never wielded a weapon before Lunatic. He hadn't really considered ever wanting to wield a weapon after Lunatic. He had too many painful memories of what he had done while wielding it, each of its grooves stained with regret. But looking at the claymore he held in his hand now, so like the one he knew before, yet just distinct enough to be Isa’s, not only Saïx’s, he felt another wave of resolution. He could never change what Lunatic had done before. But he could use it now to protect, instead of to hurt. It was the least he could do. 

Lunatic— perhaps I ought to call it something else, now —flashed out of sight once more for the time being, but at least he knew it could still come to him. He was doubtless rusty in a fight, but he was certain he could handle a few Heartless, if he needed to. 

He supposed there was a grim irony in him going out on what was essentially a recon mission for Xemnas again. He had certainly assigned enough such missions to still know what to look for. Not least of all proof that Xemnas had indeed learned to tell the truth—which he was desperate to find, for all their sakes.

Isa did not wait any longer before stalking out of the castle, ignoring Aeleus posted outside. Villain’s Vale loomed on the horizon, and Isa set off towards it, the feeling of his claymore’s hilt still echoing in his palm.