#Of course Young Xehanort has something up his sleeve
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Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 11
Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.
Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3
Chapter summary: Despite Even's efforts, Ienzo makes a choice which ripples across the castle.
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
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His peace, incredibly tenuous, does not last long.
He receives a call midmorning the next day, from Ienzo. “Even. I need help.” His voice sounds shattered.
“Whatever is the matter?”
“It’s Demyx--”
Even takes a quick breath. “Is he hurt?” He seems to have recovered from that wound, but that means nothing.
Ienzo’s voice is full of glass. “Not physically.”
Oh. Of course. Now that they’re bonded… he may have very well become fully human. And his memories were only a hair’s breadth away. “I think I understand. I’m on my way.” He goes to his lab, grabs a few different things which may be of help.
He finds them in the study room which seems to be their favorite haunt. Despite himself, he feels a concern for the boy--is it for what this implies about his own wellbeing?
“What is it? What’s happened?”
Ienzo has the boy on the ground. The boy’s face is contorted in pain; he’s breathing hard and twitching a little. Ienzo’s face is drawn. “I’m not really sure--he--this score… he insisted it was his, and then he went into this weird trance, and I think he’s remembering something . Even, I don’t know.”
Even catches sight of this supposed score. At a glance, he can tell it’s ancient; much like the young man on the floor. He crouches next to him and begins checking his vitals. The boy’s heart is positively racing. The blood loss was really hard on his heart. “He’s clearly in pain, and cannot maintain a heart rate that high for very long.” He sedates the boy, and finally Demyx settles into it, his expression slackening, his heart rate beginning to lower to something livable.
The boy’s memories must be coming back. The score was a trigger. If he is as emotionally fragile as Even--and is reliving all that war trauma--he might not pull through, his new heart might break.
“You know what this is, don’t you?” Ienzo asks.
He looks back at the score again. It doesn’t surprise him Demyx hasn’t told Ienzo. Where to even begin? Then again, does Ienzo need to deal with yet more lies of omission? “It was not my secret to share.”
“Even,” Ienzo says, his voice sharp and, if he’s reading this right, afraid.
“Xehanort had more than one trump card up his sleeve.” He sighs.“Didn’t you find it strange how we all arrived in groups? Us apprentices with Lea and Isa, and then the four neophytes. There was some degree of time between each arrival, but not nearly enough to justify what were were told. If we were to believe it, that humanoid Nobodies were rare, shouldn’t it have taken a lot longer to find the original thirteen?” He brushes his hair out of his face. “I’m not sure how exactly, but Xehanort pulled four Keyblade wielders from the age of fairy tales and made them Nobodies. Obfuscated their memories too, from the looks of things. I have no idea why it is he did this. But Xemnas told them at some point before the war, and Demyx asked me to investigate. I’m guessing this connection between you two only furthered his progress to humanity, and that when presented with a trigger, the memories came back.”
Ienzo looks down at him, his expression pinched. “So it’s true then.”
Even nods. “...Yes. It’s true. I’ve studied his DNA myself. You positively would not believe it, Ienzo--”
Something like hurt crosses his face. “And you didn’t think it prudent to ever mention this to me?”
“Would it have changed your mind?”
He drops his eyes. “No.”
“Precisely. I assure you he hasn’t experienced that passage of time.”
“...He said he’d remembered something from his past. I did not think it was this. So that means he’s really a--” He bites his lip.
“Yes.” He smiles sadly. “I worked so hard to make replicas who could wield Keyblades, and we had four wielders right under our noses.”
“But will he be all right?”
No point lying any longer. “Hard to say. All of those memories, some doubtless very gruesome and traumatic, his heart just healing… we must be patient.”
Again, they maneuver him to his bed, as gently as possible. Even starts him on fluids, another dose of the sedative. They can’t afford to have his heart rate spike. In all this, and despite his own nursing training, Ienzo doesn’t help; his expression is empty, horrified. He’s crying, though soundlessly. Even takes him away, makes him drink some tea.
“It is… a lot to process,” Even says. “But we’ve seen Roxas and Xion in spells like these and they both came out on the other side. Have faith.” He doesn’t mention that the two had considerably fewer memories to recover. This will not help Ienzo. Then again, Even isn’t sure what will.
In a voice that breaks Even’s heart, he asks, “Why is healing so dangerous?”
Question of the century. “It’s only as dangerous as we delude ourselves,” Even says finally. “Unfortunately, the spell he was under was a strong one.”
“Do you think he’ll be different?”
He thinks about it, about Ienzo’s own dramatic transformation once he returned to himself. This gentle boy is nothing like his cruel Nobody; though likely that took, and is taking, work. “Perhaps,” he says. “But no different than you yourself are. But the boy loves you, Ienzo. You can tell by the way he looks at you. I don’t think that will change.”
He drops his eyes. “Is it typical, to feel this amount of shock?”
He reaches out to feel Ienzo’s temperature. Clammy. “Like many such reactions, it’s a stress response.”
He speaks haltingly. “It is so… strange. With all that’s happened in the past month or so, I find myself wondering if it is good to allow such vulnerability.”
This is the most candid Ienzo’s been with him yet, the closest insight Even’s had to his emotions.
The last thing the boy needs is to close himself off more. “I admit the situations have been… extreme.” Even flinches. “But we’ve spent long enough closing our hearts and minds off to others, don’t you think?”
This doesn’t provide the comfort he thought. “You’re one to talk,” he says in a sharp voice. “You’ve been holed up in your lab all day every day, barely speaking to anyone. You seem to be the most hesitant of us all to accept humanity. Atonement aside.”
Thing is, he’s right. “I don’t deny it. But I have not spent my time experimenting.”
“What are you doing, then?” He looks exhausted now.
“Writing. Reflecting, mostly. Things always were the most tangible to me when they were on paper. If I can record my thoughts as data, perhaps I can make sense of them.”
His eyes soften just a little. “Is it working?”
Even can’t believe it; a real conversation. “Heavens, no. But if I do not tread these tides of emotion, then I am more foolish than I thought.”
He cants his head slightly. “What is it you feel?”
“Mostly--remorse--” He admits. He shakes his head. “As scientists, one of our duties is upholding a moral code. Needless to say, we broke it. Xehanort was manipulative, yes, but while you were a child, I was an educated man who should have known better. I did know better. But I figured the gains I made would offset the costs. They have not. And now I want to use my skills for the greater good.” But how?
“Do you think the replicas could have anything to do with that?” He becomes yet more earnest.
He still has those samples needing analysis, sitting quietly in the freezer. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” But--what right does he have to create life, anymore? Isn’t it unnatural? A query to ponder over later--back to the matter at hand, the real, tangible human sitting across from him. He gathers the rest of his remaining strength and looks Ienzo in the eye. “I must apologize to you, Ienzo.”
He blinks. “Even--”
“We can blame Ansem’s utter lack of paternal instinct all we want, but ultimately it is my fault that this all happened to you.” He thinks of his foolhardy plan to escape; even after that there were opportunities. “I should have understood Xehanort’s machinations and taken you out of that mess, but I was selfishly nearsighted. Things are always clearer in retrospect. Are they not? You deserved a normal childhood, a normal adolescence, and got anything but. And years of fear and trauma on top of it.” Who knew where Ienzo might have gone, otherwise? Without all this holding him back?
The boy exhales. “I forgive you,” he says.
He can’t mean that. There’s no way. But there’s no dishonesty in his face, his body language. A warmth wells in him, something bittersweet. Is it possible to mend their bond? Or is this just another example of Ienzo’s newfound “niceness”? “You’re a kind young man,” Even says. “I will try to make this up to you.” He stands. “I’m off to do some reading. There might be a better way for me to help Demyx after all.” He squeezes the boy’s shoulder.
And retreats to his work.
He wonders if his replicas might be of use once more. The screen seems piercingly bright when he cracks open the laptop.
It’s actually been a while since he’s read the real journals. He starts from the most recent, begins working his way back, skimming over all the biological nonsense, towards the more metaphysical.
There’s a question how to give No. i memories, he reads. It’s going to need them, to carry through--if we hope to make its “heart” worthy of a “Keyblade”, it’s going to need a sense of self, a certain nobility. How to do this while also keeping it under our control?
Oh, Vexen. You naive dunce.
The replica reports aren’t much use. Xion did all the work on her memories herself, almost spontaneously. There has to be something he can do to wavebreak the tide, so to speak; not just for Demyx, but for everyone. He storms to the library, digging for volumes, his hands trembling. In a sort of desperation, he even seeks fairy tales. The boy basically is one. But it’s all magic, and Even has no magic--
He feels helpless. If he fails Demyx, he fails Ienzo. And he can’t do that.
Maybe sleep will give him some clarity?
Some hope.
He’s just drifting when he hears the door creak open. Without thinking, he grabs the scalpel on the table next to him. “Who’s there?” He blinks, his vision focusing. “Oh… Ienzo? Is something wrong? Is it Demyx?”
“No, he’s still stable--it’s fine. It can wait until morning.” His tone is devoid of feeling.
“Clearly not, if you felt the need to come to me at this godforsaken hour. Whatever is the matter?”
He thinks for a moment. Then, “Do you think it’s possible to regain our powers?”
Of course--with Zexion’s power of illusion, and therefore memory, he might be able to shake this horrid spell, or at least find some way to help. But… humans simply aren’t meant to have these powers, otherwise they would’ve had them already, yes? He’s read something about this… he tries to remember. Won’t the use put yet more undue strain on Ienzo’s body? “Why on earth would you want that?”
“Illusion let me see memories. If I can gain control over it, maybe I can help purge the darkness in the basement and help whoever’s stuck down there find peace.” He bites his lip. “Demyx is likely to be shaken up. Perhaps I can help him too. If I can make order of his memories, perhaps he will wake up without too much damage to his heart.”
Naturally Ienzo will be the best one to handle this-- if he can control those powers. But the nature of such power is that it is unnatural. It’s not supposed to exist. In their studies, the calculated entropy alone-- “Have you even tried casting a spell?��
“Once,” Ienzo says. “It… did not go well. I had a terrible migraine. I was wondering if you might have some sort of medicine that might let me work through the pain.”
Even darts over to his bookshelf, seeking a certain volume, finding it finally. “You see… the thing is… such elemental power comes from the will, typically as a manifestation of some psychological trait or another. Hence why, in the absence of a heart, we were able to use it as Nobodies. But now that you are human… you’ve no need for such defense mechanism. Your being is whole. Trying to invoke it could be disastrous. The entropy of it alone would, in the best possible scenario, induce sleep.” His heart and will would fight for control over his body, destabilize him…
“Sleep?” the boy asks.
“Sleep akin to death,” Even says darkly. “They must lie so closely together. And you must hope you find the strength, fast enough, to save your life before you’re claimed by the other side. Ienzo.” His turns towards the boy beseechingly. “Would the risk be worth it? Is there not another way you can atone?”
“What about the reward?” he asks instantly.
“Ienzo--”
“Please, Even. I’ll be careful.” His eyes show that his mind is made up. Regardless of whether or not Even helps him, he’s made his decision.
Even can’t make this boy’s choices for him anymore. If he were ever able to. He crosses over to a cabinet, considers what’s left of his store, what’s still good. He finds one of the only painkillers he has which can also allow the boy to remain lucid. “Take half of one of these,” he says sternly. “You’ll feel no pain. But should your nose start bleeding, drop everything instantly and rest.”
“Is that a side effect?”
“No. But that’ll be entropy wreaking havoc on your body.” Even presses the bottle into his hand. “Let me watch over you.”
He looks at the pills. “I think this is something I have to do on my own.”
“You children always think you know what’s best. Fine. But if you do not text me within three hours I will hunt you down.”
He nods. For just a second, Even senses a kinship between them again. “Very well. Thank you, Even. This means a lot to me.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
---
As the timer ticks down… Even frets, and paces. He prepares a kit, should this all go poorly, with fluids and epinephrine and the like. His own anxiety is spiking. But if he were in the same shoes, wouldn't he do everything in his power to save his dear one? Imagine the guilt otherwise?
He can't breathe. Panicking will be no use. You must be calm. Focused. The boy has always been more than he seems. If anyone can do this, it's Ienzo.
He's still not prepared when it happens. When he hears the gummiphone, and sees it's Ienzo, the relief hangs heavily in him. But the voice that speaks isn't his, it's Demyx, jagged and full of razors--"I need help. Even, I need--”
“Demyx? How long have you been conscious?”
“I think Ienzo’s dying and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Dying. The word echoes heavily, and so does the further gut punch-- I knew it. This is his fault, he should've fought Ienzo harder. “I’m coming. Stay on the line. Put it on speakerphone, do you know how to do that? What happened?"
Demyx sobs. "He found me. In my memory. I don’t know how, but he--he said he wasn’t supposed to have that power."
Even grabs his kit, already on the move. He swears. "No. He isn’t. There’s a reason humans don’t control the elements willy-nilly. What are the symptoms?" How bad did the boy let it get?
"He’s having trouble breathing. His pulse is really fucked up. His nose is bleeding and it seems like he’s in a lot of pain--” He gasps out another sob. "I'm sorry, Even."
His legs feel barely there as he runs. "I know you didn't ask for this."
"Why is this happening?"
The words feel divorced from him. His fingers fly across the screen--he needs more than mere medicine. "Power like that comes from the will. It can only exist without the presence of a fully realized heart--otherwise, it’s too much power. Hence why Nobodies can use it as a defense mechanism. At that point, entropy starts wreaking havoc on the body. Your cells literally start to break down and melt. The will to live starts to wear down." He has no doubt that the boy overextended himself. His fingers feel numb as he reaches out to that woman, the one who healed Demyx. If she could fix that, she may be the only one to fix this.
Demyx's breath catches. "Ienzo…"
Admittedly, it's a relief that the boy cares so much for him. “I’ve messaged Aerith. I don’t think my skills are enough. We must keep him alive until then.” His heart is beating so fast. You don’t have time to panic, you old fool. Get it together. Demyx can do all the suffering for both of us.
Distantly, tinnily, he hears, “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
“Demyx?” he prompts, another thrill of panic making his vision sheeny.
“He’s not breathing.”
“I need you to start doing compressions. Hard. We can fix broken ribs.” He’s almost there. Why did he let himself get so physically weak?
“Why would you do this?” the boy asks. “Why didn’t you let me drown?”
He’s there. Finally. He throws the door open. He sees Ienzo on Demyx’s bed, more corpse at this point than boy, soaked again in blood from his nose, and Demyx frantically trying to do compressions. He pulls the syringe of epinephrine from his bag, sticks the boy. Demyx is sobbing, a weirdly animal sound. Without machinery or magic, Even has no way of truly assessing Ienzo’s condition. He barely has a pulse. “Keep doing what you’re doing,” he says to Demyx as gently as possible. “If you’re tired I can--” But he can tell he’s talking to a wall. The younger man isn’t responding.
Aerith arrives at last. He sees something like horror in her green eyes before a mask settles into place.
“You should go,” Even tells Demyx. The last thing they need is for him to have this mental breakdown right here.
“I’m not leaving him.”
“You are in far too much distress to be a comfort to him.”
“But what if he--”
Even seizes him by the arm and pushes him. He slinks towards the door, trembling all over; Aerith whispers spells, ancient old words. “What happened?” she asks after a moment.
Even explains as quickly as possible.
“I can try to treat the body,” she says, though her teeth. “But if his will is worn down, then--”
“Do you think it is?”
“Oh, it is,” she says. “I use… when I heal, I use people’s own energies, their auras, which is basically the physical version of a will. I can barely feel anything, Even.”
He feels himself go numb. “Is this a fool’s errand, then?”
“Like I said. I’ll try my best. If it would be more of a comfort you could leave too--”
“I will not.”
For a moment, the sharpness of his tone causes her head to snap up; she quickly glances back down. “Can you connect the port line you’ve started to the blood replacement I brought?”
He does what the woman asks, feeling so helpless. “Would it break your concentration, to tell me what’s going on?”
She takes a quick breath. She holds her hands over him, and while it looks like she’s not doing much, Even can see the strain the magic is having. “It’s the internal bleeding that’s the problem,” she mumbles. “Between that, and the nosebleed, he’s lost something like three liters--and he’s a small man. A lot of his organs have failed, and some are bleeding too. Feels like the power must’ve started eating them. Not to mention his heart. It feels like it hasn’t been beating, though I know Demyx was doing good compressions--two of his ribs are broken. He must’ve entered something like sleep to stay alive while he used his powers. Fixing it is going to take time--time I’m not sure he has.” She glances up. “But I’ll try my best.”
“Is there anything I can…” Ienzo’s in more trouble, and he can’t do a single thing except watch.
“Ethers, if you have them. I’m going to need them.”
Numbly, Even nods, and leaves the room. Demyx sits curled next to the door frame, his hands bloody from the compressions, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. “...Boy?” Even asks softly.
He doesn’t respond. Likely he can’t.
He heads back towards his lab, spots Aeleus. At least one thing can be done.
The other man takes in his bedraggled appearance, the spots of blood on his white coat. “Even?” he asks.
“Aeleus, I need you to do something for me--likely several. You need to look after Demyx. He’s in shock. I’m not sure what he might do. I’m afraid Ienzo’s done something foolish in order to save him.” He explains about Demyx’s past, Ienzo’s condition. “I need to be with him, and help that woman how I can. Do not let Demyx in--I don’t care what you have to do to the boy. Nor Ansem, should he approach. Understand?”
Fear breaks his stoic expression. “Of course.”
Even feels himself slipping, adrenaline and panic making him weak and clumsy. He gathers what supplies he has for the healer, and then he returns. “Anything?” he asks her.
“He’s fighting. But he’s so tired,” Aerith explains. “Still unstable. I’m working on it.”
So Even waits. He watches her hands twist and gesture in foreign spells, offers her ethers, water, cloths for the sweat on her face. Mostly he just tries to keep it together, to not allow himself to consider what might happen if Ienzo doesn’t pull through. After what must be hours… she drops her hands, breathing hard. Even begins bracing himself. “Stable,” she says quietly. “The bleeding’s under control. We should probably bring him somewhere he can recover in the long term.”
“...Just pick him up?”
“His body’s rebounding well… that’s not what I’m worried about.”
The door slits open--Even sees Dilan’s face, his own panic mirrored back at him. “What on earth is going on--”
“You moron, we don’t need your meddling right now--”
“Can he carry him?” Aerith asks.
“I’m sure I can,” Dilan says. “But what--”
Even sighs. And explains.
“But why would Ienzo do this?” he asks. “He never--”
“I will not have you fret,” Even snaps. “Let’s get him moved.”
Dilan approaches Ienzo slowly. Despite the transfusion, he still looks deathly pale. As carefully as possible, he lifts him. They settle him back into his own bed; Even dresses him in something clean. He knows the boy is unaware of everything, but still is embarrassed for him anyway. Washes the blood off his face. Tucks him in. Aerith starts another transfusion.
“You said you’re not worried about his body,” he says, suddenly processing what was heard earlier.
She shakes her head. “Now that the damage is largely healed,” she says. “It’s his will to live--healthy body or not, if he’s weakened it, there’s no animating force behind him. It must’ve taken energy to… do what he did. He must’ve essentially lent Demyx his own, to get him out of the memories. There are a… few things I can try, to gauge how bad it is. He’s hanging on now. That’s the important thing.” She looks up. There are bruise-colored circles under her eyes. “Is he a… determined person?”
“...Stubborn to a fault,” Even admits. “How do you think he got in this mess? First he didn’t listen to me about… falling in with that boy, and then he wouldn’t let me monitor him.”
She sighs. “Good. That’s good. It might make all the difference. You should go tell your family.”
It’s the word choice that startles him. “I’m sure Dilan’s doing nothing but making them worry.” But before he can move, there’s a gentle knock.
Ansem, exhausted and haggard. “My poor boy…”
Even scowls. “I thought I told Aeleus to keep you away from here.”
“Aeleus is preoccupied.”
“He doesn’t need more stress.”
“Even, I’ve missed most of the horrific events in Ienzo’s life. The least I can do is be present now.”
“And he definitely doesn’t need you two squabbling,” Aerith says firmly. “Stay, or go, I don’t care, but what Ienzo needs is peace. If it’s something this deeply metaphysical, he’ll definitely sense the difference.”
Ansem nods and approaches the boy, sitting at his feet.
Very well. Let Even do all the heavy lifting. Like he always does.
He leaves. He can feel he’s shaking. If Ienzo passes on… what then?
What would he possibly have left?
He finds the other three in the sitting room; Demyx wrapped in a blanket, Aeleus gently consoling him; Dilan sits with his head in his hands. “He’s stable,” he explains when the three of them look up. “Aerith is with him now.”
“What exactly happened?” Dilan asks. “Demyx said something about overextending his power.”
“As far as I can tell--and it’s still early--that’s the case.” He clutches the back of a chair. “We’re not meant to truly have access to our elemental power. It’s an essence of the self, a projection in the absence of a heart--weapons are another mystery. By trying to regain it, however lightly, the entropy of a Nobody’s nonexistence began to eat away at his organs. Particularly his heart.”
“...The organ?” Demyx asks. It’s the first Even’s heard him speak since. His voice is odd, hollow. “Or--”
“We’re not sure how his metaphysical heart has been affected. But I have to learn to relinquish control when something’s out of my hands… and it is. Aerith is healing the physical damage. He’s asleep right now. Ansem is with him too.” He meets Demyx’s eyes. “Might I have a word with you?”
The boy’s eyes widen a little in fear, but he follows Even, taking the blanket with him. He leads the boy to his quarters, gestures for him to sit. “Can I get you some tea? Something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” Hollow and raw.
“You’re going to need your strength.” There’s not much of anything in his cabinets, just some likely stale biscuits in a tin. He places them on the coffee table in front of the boy, but he doesn’t take any. He has no idea how to help. If Ienzo has saved Demyx’s life, the least he can do is be of use. It’s what the boy would want. He starts taking his vitals. “Slight fever. Blood pressure low. Eat something. It’ll help. We should probably try to get some more caffeine into your system too.” Demyx watches him warily. Something looks different about the boy, something Even can’t place his finger on.
“Did you lie to Aeleus and Dilan?”
“Not technically.” He takes off the stained coat, sits. He’s exhausted. “I need to gather more information about the situation. And considering the extreme… delicacy of the situation, I figured you’d rather have some privacy.”
He shivers and won’t make eye contact. “How is Ienzo really?”
“The picture I have is not clear.” He puts a hand to his splitting head. “As I said, use of his power wrought havoc on his internal organs. There’s a good deal of internal bleeding, as well as kidney failure. But the most concerning of these things was his heart. I’m not sure yet for how long or when, but use of his power stopped it from beating. Not… death, exactly, but a type of sleep very near it. Something impossible to maintain without intervention. So, naturally, once he tried to wake back up, he went into shock.” Even pauses. Now that he’s coming down himself, his perception is improving. The boy is different. His eyes were never that deep shade of green. “Have your eyes always been so green, or am I just getting old?”
Demyx stares at him blankly.
“Can you tell me what you recall from earlier yesterday afternoon? Do you remember anything?”
He sighs. It’s a heavy sound. “That’s putting it mildly,” he says. He explains that they’d been working, that he’d realized the ancient score was his. “I just… started remembering. Everything about my life then started coming back, wave after wave after wave. There was just so much pain. I felt like I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t . And then… well I don’t know how. But he got into my head, literally, and dragged me out of the memory. And then I woke up.”
It’s all starting to click. “...Fascinating,” Even mumbles. “Zexion always could use the memories of others to create illusions. But to actively be able to alter them…” He clucks his tongue. “If he’s closely bonded to you, it makes sense that he was able to do so. Naminé was only able to alter memories of those in and around Sora. His power must have functioned similarly.”
“He should have left me there,” Demyx whispers.
“I believe his friendship with Sora has given him something of a hero complex.” He uncrosses his legs. “Nonetheless, you deserve to live too. I have been too harsh with you. I always have.”
“I wasn’t exactly a good person then.”
The admission surprises him. Demyx always had a sort of cockiness to him in the past. To have him out here so nakedly; is this the memories giving him clarity? Or is it simple change? If Even were not so shocked, he would find it fascinating. “No worse, I’m sure, than I. The complex dynamics of the Organization involved quite a lot of groupthink. It was easy to blame you as the source of our problems. The truth is more nuanced than that.”
“The Organization was all I knew at the time.” He tightens the blanket around his shoulders. “I still wanted to be free. But I didn’t want it enough to make the effort of fighting worth it. So I made do.”
“As one does.” He can’t help but see himself in this story, his wayward attempts at survival doing nothing more than causing himself and Ienzo years of trauma.
“It’s okay.” Demyx sighs. “Dilan and I agreed to start over. Maybe you and me should do the same.”
Even nods. “Second chances involve quite a lot of forgiveness,” he says. “But perhaps we all have more common ground than we think.”
This said, the boy’s eyes settle back into the middle distance. He is different; Even can just feel it. More intense. More serious, and vulnerable. He thought it was the lighting at first, but the boy’s hair has changed, all the remaining blonde gone. Changed like a replica when it gets a heart, though the boy’s body is organic. He holds himself a little straighter.
So he’s done it, then. Completed his reformation. Something similar must be coming towards Even in the coming weeks and months. Something that may be worth studying--at the very least, so he can brace himself, fall apart as little as possible. Not to mention, the richness of what Demyx might know of such old times, times that were hardly written about. Even feels a small thrill despite himself. “I understand you’re still in shock, and naturally are very worried. But will you tell me about your past? I can only imagine what this must all be like for you.”
“Shock is right. I feel numb.” He sounds it.
“Perhaps you should get some rest,” Even suggests.
Demyx shakes his head. “I want to see him.”
How can this traumatized boy offer Ienzo the peace he needs? Not when he himself is so uncertain. “I don’t know if that is necessarily the best for either of you at the moment. Believe me. We will keep an eye on him. Sleep might help you get some clarity.”
“What I’d like to do is take a bath. I’m so cold.”
“Then by all means.”
Demyx leaves without so much as casting a backwards glance in his direction. He hasn’t eaten, Even realizes.
He does not have the strength to care for the two boys and himself at once.
Even sinks into bed. He can feel wetness in his own eyes.
Don’t do this, Ienzo. Don’t give up. Please.
But is he praying for the boy’s sake, or his own?
No; Even does not matter. Ienzo deserves a full and happy life. He still has so much left ahead of him; unlike the rest of them, he can bounce back, can be forgiven for his mistakes (though are they really his own?).
Even can’t sleep. He is numb, tired. He forces himself up. Aerith and Demyx both need feeding. But he finds that Aeleus has already cooked. “The least I can do,” he says softly. “Even… you look positively horrid.”
“I… know why Ienzo did what he did,” he says. “If it were me… if I could save the person most important… I… like to think I would’ve.” I wish I could do it now.
“It makes it no easier,” Aeleus says, with a nod. “You should eat as well.”
“Yes.” Aeleus is a decent enough cook, but the soup tastes like nothing. “Any word?”
“Nothing yet. She hasn’t left that room but to ask for some water.”
“The girl needs food. It’s a lot of magic.” He doesn’t sound like himself. “I’ll get her.”
“Even?”
Wearily, he turns.
“You can be upset about this,” Aeleus says. “I know it must… evoke painful memories.”
Even chuckles. “What doesn’t, these days,” he admits.
Aerith is still crouched by Ienzo. “His body is still alive,” she says when she sees him. “I’m afraid… he’s very deeply asleep.”
“More than on a physical level, I assume,” Even says.
“Well, yes. The will’s worn down, but still here. It needs to rest, to restore itself. Kind of like… putting itself into power-saver mode. Ergo, Ienzo can’t move.”
“Can the boy recover from it?”
“I… believe so,” she admits. “But I honestly have no idea how long it will take. Weeks? Months? I’ve never seen something like this before.”
“I can care for a sleeping child. I’ve done it before.”
She nods, slowly. “I’ll come back later to check on him.”
“Aeleus has made dinner. I insist you go get some. You look peaked.”
“Thank you… saves me the embarrassment of asking.” She smiles a little.
“I… can’t thank you enough. If it were only me…”
Aerith nods. “It’s my duty. My pleasure.” She leaves.
While he’s at it, he rouses Demyx, too, who is just as surly about eating until Even tells him Aerith’s there. Both children fed… he returns to the scene of the crime.
Ienzo sleeps.
Much like that night all those years ago, he’s breathing much too deeply and evenly, not so much as twitching. It’s not natural sleep in that regard. Keeping the body breathing and the heart beating is all his will can manage. He sits next to the boy. He’s positive Ienzo can’t hear him, unlike a normal coma patient; but he still speaks anyway. Science is reasonable; scientists are human. “He’s alright, you know,” Even says to him. “But I’m afraid I’m going to give you a stern talking-to concerning your self worth, when you wake.” He brushes the boy’s hair out of his eyes. His skin is a little feverish. “Do not… scare me like that again.” He squeezes Ienzo’s hand gently.
And lets him sleep.
#beyond this existence: atonement#even (kingdom hearts)#ienzo#demyx#aerith#aeleus#ansem the wise#beyond this existence
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Xion in Re:Mind
So, today I’m going to go through all scenes that are Xion relevant and do some basic analysis. I’ll also talk about her data fight.
Spoilers under cut, obviously.
Keyblade Graveyard-- Counting with Saïx
In this scene, Saïx, Xigbar, and Xehanort, gather together to learn how to count-- AKA they’re filling out the ranks of the Organization. They come-up two short. Xehanort reveals that Terra-Nort is still up his sleeve. I don’t understand, and don’t ask me. Alright, lets get onto Xion:
Vexen creates 20 original puppets. The first twelve were the original set of the Replica Program from CO. It is of these twelve that the Organization is pulling from to put people into. They get-up to Ansem, Xemnas, Vanitas, Repliku, and Young Xehanort, to make five, and then + Xion.
Repliku is referred to as the ‘prototype,’ and then Xion is of course, No. i.
“The plan for the last replica is to give it a heart that is connected to Sora.”
Cool. Cool. Cool. Why not Roxas? Literally, why not Roxas?
Xion doesn’t have a heart. That is the entire point of Days, if Xion had a heart, then why did she die? How does she have a heart Nomura, you’re skipping right over the question I want answered.
FURTHERMORE, the only memory that exists of Xion is of the No. i, notes. Xion as in the girl that is in Sora’s heart, is not No. i. They don’t know about Xion because they can’t remember her. So why would Saïx mention ‘someone connected to Sora?’ As far as Vexen is concerned, his creation never attained sentience. Vexen was dead before Sora’s memories were put into Xion. Sora had not lost his memories until the end of Chain of Memories, so it’s just-- very confusing.
This throws such a gear in the machine because Saïx doesn’t remember Xion. Why would they bother to resurrect a dead replica that was obviously an abject failure, instead of Roxas, the nobody of Sora? How do they know about Xion?
“No. i, an imaginary number, how fitting.” Thank you for the exposition Xigbar.
Then Saïx goes and gets Vexen.
No one should give a shit about No. i, because No. i was just an empty, insentient replica that followed orders. Xion was the person that formed from No. i. There’s an argument that Vexen would return for Repliku, but as far as he’s aware, No. i was a shell.
AKA this entire thing threw a wrench in character motivations, raises more questions, failed to answer old questions, and tells me nothing new about Xion. All of the information in this scene is in supplemental material, now it’s just in the main game.
Cool.
The return of my Salt.
This is the Seasalt trio reunion with some extra pizz-zazz and playable Roxas. We get a little more exposition on No. i and Xion. Kairi is also here.
Reunion of the old Organization members with Axel, Xemnas, and Saïx + No. i. Axel asks who Xion is.
“This ‘guest’ of ours has an old score to settle with you.”
Okay, Xemnas, you said you can’t remember Xion. First, of all, you don’t know that Axel and Xion ever fought. You don’t know that they were friends. You don’t know anything about Xion beyond the notes Vexen left of No. i. What are you talking about?
Literally five seconds later: “It is a being of whom we have no memory.”
Still misgendering Xion, nice.
“A true nobody, hailing from the edge of oblivion.”
This means nothing and is just a cool line, but you know I’m going to run with it.
So, if No. i, was recreated from the notes left by Vexen, then it is not Xion. That is not Xion. Xion is still inside Sora. No. i is a completely different thing than Xion. Xion developed a personality, memories, and ‘heart,’ supposedly over time. So Xemnas alluding to ‘it has no memories of what it truly is,’ is bogus and dumb. Never mind that Xemnas wouldn’t know that.
He can’t even remember why Xion was destroyed in the first place and even why he has no memory of it.
Saïx is acting like he knows something when it comes to Xion and even encourages her to remember Axel and Roxas-- for no apparent reason.
Because he doesn’t remember the friendship between Axel, Roxas, and Xion, why would he even think to prompt her on this.
Xion remembers Axel and immediately goes for Lea’s throat-- this is canon and valid.
Okay then we get the usual scene with Xion getting.... her memory back? More on this in a bit.
This is also good and valid.
E N R A G E D S C R E A M I N G
The only assumption I have is that Xion begins to remember Axel and Roxas. Then that starts to return pieces of memory to Xemnas. This is not at all implied in the text but it’s the only rational explanation for his behavior in this scene.
I wanna use a few more images for this because it’s all visual through this part.
Sora’s Station of Awakening peels back to reveal Roxas’. Roxas’ station now has an image of Xion in it.
Then, these leaflets type thing start to float away and Sora calls them, ‘the memories.’ So, my previous theory that Xemnas was beginning to remember is dashed out of the water because, according to this scenes the memories had not been released yet. After this, Axel remember Xion.
(This would be a great time to reveal Xion’s station of awakening and cement her as a unique person, even have her interact with Sora-- but no that would be too much to ask from Nomura).
This scene is also really dumb because it basically just stops the original scene, has Sora make an obvious statement to explain what’s going on, and then continues the original scene. Roxas’ returns, with a brief break into the void for exposition, and lets get into the meat of this.
Roxas and Xion fight Xemnas. So on and so forth--
This crap.
What is this.
Where did it come from? Why is it important? Axel says, ‘get what’s ours,’ and they get this. Which is the recusant symbol that is in all of their names. That’s, easy to figure out. It is then implied that this is the... symbol of their connection. AKA, the symbol of their membership in the Organization is also the symbol of their connection. Okay. Except, Xemnas was the character who brainwashed and assaulted Xion; The character that lead to Roxas and Axel’s death. The Organization is why their friendship fell apart in the first place. I could get deep into like, the psychological implications of the symbol it’s just--
Why use it for this reading. In this way.
Ugh.
Whatever. Kairi gets kidnapped and the scene continues as usual. Xion has no new dialogue. We learn nothing about her character. She just has the blank, default female character. The sole personality that Nomura can write for women.
Xion is shown fighting wth the keyblade wielders. Nothing, really, to see here. She’s just in the climax, she doesn’t do anything unique. Heck, Roxas even has to save her at one point. So, lets move onto her data fight.
Xion’s Data Fight
When I heard Xion was going to get a data fight I was very excited for the potential of that fight. Perusing the internet netted potential fights pulling on her replica abilities or the final forms from 358/2 Days. Imagine fighting a boss that can pull at least one move from all other bosses previously fought. Which was my first hope. My second hope was for the form changes from her previous final battle, different movesets, different abilities and powers. A wide challenge.
My worst fear was that she would be a copy of Roxas’ fight from KH2.
Well, never underestimate Nomua’s ability to disappoint because that is exactly what we got. I suppose, looking at the previous content of Re:Mind I could have seen this coming. Xion did not receive any new dialogue. We did not learn anything about her character. All we learned was a few chunks of lore information that... we basically already knew. Anything new was confusing, useless, and irrelevant. I knew that Xion’s power mimicked Roxas’, that’s obvious.
The addition of her using Saïx claymore in the graveyard was interesting because it implied something new about her powers. She could copy someone other than Sora or Roxas. In Re:Mind however, Xion shows-up in the graveyard without ever encountering Sora or Roxas, with the kingdom key. There is no, from a story or lore standpoint, for her to have that. She has had no chance to copy it. The keyblade is not inherent to Xion. So, really, we fight Roxas in Re:Mind, dressed-up as Xion.
Nomura isn’t creative enough, or cares enough, to take Xion’s character in any new direction. He brings her back in KH3 not because he has a character arc for her, or anything to do for her. But only for fanservice, for Roxas’ and Axel’ character arcs. He won’t give her a unique moveset because he doesn’t consider her a unique enough character to warrant one. Light is Roxas’ element, not Xion’s, she doesn’t have an element. She doesn’t have a keyblade. Her face is Kairi’s face. Her value is rooted in her connection to Sora.
On the other hand, she has, what I’ve seen and been told, is one of the hardest fights in the game. She will wood chipper Sora if the player is not on their toes. Through her teleportation trick she’s fast and has extended invincibility frames. Unlike Saïx, she is pointed and aggressive, with seconds between assaults. I will gladly keep the headcanon that Xion is an aggressive, hard-hitting, and fast fighter.
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KH OC Week 2019 ~ Day 6
@khoc-week
There aren’t many choices that would have affected Kalai’s story, unfortunately hers is a case where many things are out of her control.
But with Ilysia and Anila, things are different. I often imagine what would become of Ilysia if she did not accompany her husband to rescue Xehanort. I think maybe his near-militant aversion to darkness wouldn’t be as intense. But more importantly, she would likely live out her days in Land of Departure, happily, with Eraqus and have a hand at raising the Wayfinder Trio as something of a mother figure to them since they have no children of their own.
Anila on the other hand, well, sometimes I wonder what would happen if she never met Tarian and accepted her feelings for Xehanort sooner. I don’t think about it a lot though since very likely that would mean that Xehanort would end up being Kalai’s GRANDFATHER and yeah, I’m not sure how that would work out. XD
So for today’s prompt, I’m going to share a little snippet of what would be Ilysia’s later life as consort to Eraqus and mother figure to the young Terra and Aqua. And Anila as an honorary aunt.
~~~
It seemed as though no matter how much time had passed, some things never changed. Those were Ilysia’s thoughts as the little blue haired girl ran up to her and Anila with tears in her eyes. Apparently Terra was picking on her again.
“Tell him to give my sword baaaack!” She whined. “He has his own! Why does he keep taking mine?”
“Want me to teach him a lesson?” Asked Anila, grinning as she rolled up she sleeves. “I’ll show him not to…”
“That won’t be necessary, dear.” Ilysia replied with a small laugh. “Stay with us for a moment, Aqua. Then I’ll get your sword back for you.”
She sat in between the two women, Ilysia put a comforting arm around the girl while she regarded her companion with a mischievous smile.
“Remember how Xehanort used to get on our last nerve?”
“Hmph! What I remember is how he used to always best you in chess or sparring. He was the only one who could! Not even your husband could beat you even once!”
“And yet, I also remember how you once told me how you thought he had pretty eyes...”
“I never said such a thing!”
“Don’t tell lies in front of the child!”
The woman laughed and it made Aqua laugh too, even if she didn’t know what they were laughing about. And of course she wanted to know.
“Master Ilysia, who is Xehanort?”
Ilysia smiled as she gently patted the soft blue head of hair.
“He was a friend of ours.” She replied. “Long ago before you were born. When Master Eraqus, your Auntie Anila and I were youngsters ourselves.”
“In Scala ad Caelum.” Her bright blue eyes lit up. “Will you tell me more about it please?”
The master was more than happy to oblige. Aqua always enjoyed her stories of Scala and it served as a momentary distraction from her sadness at her sword being stolen. And of course, Anila could share her own stories that Aqua might not have yet heard.
“You know, child.” Ilysia said. “Xehanort often troubled your auntie because he secretly liked her. It is possible that Terra does the same because he secretly likes you too.”
“WHAT?!”
Aqua jumped up from her place beside them, stamping her little feet with great indignance.
“NO WAY! Terra doesn’t like me! And I don’t like him! He’s a jerk!”
The woman laughed at this. Yes, no matter how much time passed, some things always remained the same.
~~~
#kingdom hearts oc week#kh oc week#Ilysia OC#anila oc#aqua#fluff#cute baby aqua#i literally wrote this in less than fifteen minutes and it shows#this was not planned either
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KH3 DLC AND KH4 THEORY
So I have a KH3 DLC and KH4 theory, SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ANYBODY WHO HASN'T FINISHED KH3!!!
We good? Okay.
I think Kairi might be in the datascape!
Ok, so remember back to KH1 when we saw Kairi's memories while we were in Hollow Bastion, talking to her Granny about the kids of light and such. So she would've been there in Radiant Garden when Ansem the Wise was doing all of his weird research. I think there's a possibility that since Kairi was a princess of heart, he did experiments of the heart using Kairi for research.
Now think of the Mystery Star in the Final World, she said her identity was stolen, but not her heart because her heart pined for another. I'm going to assume she's Skuld, and the missing girl that suddenly the Xehanort's are all so interested in.
Now think of Namine, who for some reason can manipulate Sora's memories but also implant stuff into Repliku's mind too? What if her base power is based on Kairi's unknown abilities to see memories in people's hearts? What if that's Kairi's princess power? And what if Ansem the Wise used that ability to look into Skuld's memories and learned about the Dandelions and the other Keyblade Wielders who fell in the keyblade war who now reside in the datascape? What if he learned about the datascape through Skuld? And what if since Kairi was so young that things go scrambled? So like what if Kairi knows about Skuld and all of this info, so her own memories got messed up before she got sent to Destiny Islands for her own safety?
And Ansem the Wise was seen as a very kind man, right? What if he tried to rescue the Dandelions from the Datascape? But could only revive Ventus, Lauriam, and Arlene? And he said he ruined countless lives already, right? What if he was unsuccessful in reviving some of the dandelions and it resulted in letting out a bunch of Darklings (the fallen hearts of keyblade wielders) and maybe creating a bunch of heartless?
Right, so back to Kairi in KH3, WHAT IF they figured out that Kairi might have a connection to Skuld, so instead of actually killing her, they made a REPLICA of Kairi to destroy in front of Sora so he would assume she was lost and would therefore not look for her when they kidnapped her, cuz he would assume her heart's lost? Right, so they knew he would go hopping through darkness and worlds and whatever with the power of waking because he did that before. He would get himself lost, and meanwhile they would use the real Kairi to find Skuld. The whole dead Kairi being a replica they destroyed matches up with the fact that she didn't have a heart when she exploded AND she looked like glass, which is what Xion resembled when her body was being destroyed in 358/2 Days.
So if they were trying to mess with Kairi's mind to figure out what she knows, they might hide her in A DATASCAPE! When the Xehanorts kidnap Ansem the Wise in KH3, why would they go to the mansion? To use the Datascape! So it's kind of established that they've been messing around there already. But I bet they don't know that Ienzo has set up a network with that computer. And Nomura said that DLC might have something to do with Kairi and Xion WHICH LEADS ME TO THIS!
What if Xion, being briefly part of the new Organization XIII, knew about them wanting to mess with the Datascape? She said near the end of KH3 that she had a feeling that Kairi was alright, which was weird because her heart isn't bound to Kairi's in the way Sora's is, even if she was sleeping inside Sora for a bit, it didn't make sense for her to sense Kairi in that way, unless she already had a feeling that the Xehanort posse had something up their sleeves. And the Xehanorts wouldn't kill Kairi if they knew she might have info concerning Skuld, would they? Nope, they'd probably try to throw them off the trail with a fake Kairi. So I think Xion knowing Organization XIII's general plans might be the one to put two and two together and tell everybody that hey, Kairi might be in a datascape!
Another thing I have to support this is again the ending, it's Sunset, very similar to how Twilight Town is always sunset in the Datascape. I think that Kairi's datascape prison has her and her buddies all at the beach, but she knows it's not real so she stays separate from all of it, she's not buying into the illusion, which is why she cries when she sees Sora there. And if you remember Recoded, Data Sora coming into contact with some of the data makes it disappear when he's done interacting with it. So Kairi dissolving the illusion of a Sora in her datascape would literally make it disappear, hence why she'd be sad.
So I think that in KH4, Kairi breaks free from her datascape prison, but she's still stuck. My theory is that the datascape is like our internet, it's HUGE. And in KHUX, in the upcoming update, the dandelions make their way through wreck-it ralph's universe when bugs start happening with the datascape. Which makes me think there could be countless worlds in the Datascape, just like we have countless websites. Now here's where Sora and Riku pop in. Now what if Xion's like HOLD THE PHONE, GUYS, so Riku contacts Sora, and they hop in the datascape to find Kairi. Another thing to support this idea is the very presence of Yozora who is supposed to be a video game character, so if he exists, he would exist in an internet space or DATASCAPE! What if the Datascape is so vast that Sora and Riku split up to find Kairi, who just escaped the beach datascape and is fighting her own way out. So the three have to find each other again and get Kairi out!
And of course we saw the Master of Masters in there too, right? Master of Masters supposedly disappeared, but what if it's because he disappeared INTO THE DATASCAPE? :D
Whoo, that's a lot to type out, but I want to hear your insights!
Also more things to support the Datascape thing, I don’t think this magical forest where Kairi and Lea can train is really a thing, I think it’s another datascape, because again, SUNSET. Always sunsets in the datascape. Like maybe the twilight is another symbolic thing to represent datascape, not dead but not alive, not day but not night. The old keyblade wielders in the datascape fell in battle but their hearts are data. Not dead but not alive. So if Lea and Kairi were training in a datascape, they could train at the speed of light, and that’s how Lea could carry ice cream in his pockets, and that’s why Merlin had to get them stuff, cuz Merlin is a user. And again, that’s why there would be two different time settings in the ending of KH3, like sure maybe the gang DID play on the beach at the end at DAYTIME, but kairi’s having a very similar occurrence in her datascape at SUNSET, which to me symbolizes datascape.
Also I just learned that the DLC is going to be called RE:MIND. HMMM! SEEMS VERY SIMILAR TO RE:CODED WHICH WAS IN THE DATASCAPE!
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nothingness, don’t reblog. When your suddenly hit with something (spoilers)
So I guess because of it being canon now that Terra’s heart was guardian... this only just hit me after going through my art tag and seeing I had drawn something of guardian interacting with Lux and I guess the same could be said for the lingering will but now I feel like guardian / TLW would sense “ himself “ but mostly “ aqua “ ??? properly from the boy (especially because of how he came to exist.)
Which is making me think that Lux just sort of unknowingly reminds people of stuff (cause i mean I’ve wrote here and there of Lux reminding the founding members of little Ienzo - but i guess it depends on the character / who i’m interacting with if Lux reminds them of anyone in their life / seems similar to someone. Which is mostly attributed to him being a young kid who’s A) curious about the world and B) very good nurtured despite - well his background / existence etc.
It’s sort of the reason why I sort of included the idea that because light had formed within the boy - that if need be he could be used as a replacement for either the light or darkness in Xehanort’s eyes (just minus the fact that he couldn’t be separated similar to Ventus and Vanitas because it would just - not work for obvious reasons.)
Plus Lux does have a keyblade...so if needed be he could of replaced a guardian of light perhaps (mostly in terms of the side of light replacing Terra or Aqua?????) Including the fact if he was “ told to do so “ he would because... Lux does what he’s told to do unfortunately. Minus of course how easily Xehanort could use Lux as a vessel (say for example - replacing any of those who needed a replica body to exist because since Lux has no somebody / was not destroyed and such he CAN exist in the present / current worldline - timeline what not.
In honesty Lux could’ve been treated like an ace up Xehanorts sleeve (and perhaps why people are still tasked with looking after Lux is to nurture that light...and expose him to darkness where be. Just things ended up working out in the end SO Lux went un-needed unless I’m able to work out some idea in which he nearly was used??? Because as I portray it Lux was told to “ hide “ not that he knew that (I have a fic I wrote I need to go through and edit / rewrite tbh as to what Lux was doing during the end of KH2.)
But this time the only reason to hide him is because hes a “ trump card “ but otherwise technically he could be used...the only disadvantage Lux poses is whether the guardians of light would attack him or not because of him being a CHILD. Unless they jumped to the conclusion that he’s just “ another Xehanort “ or some scenario was set up for them to either attack Lux - or come to his rescue????? Maybe something similar to what happened to kairi??
either way back on subject - similar to the actual Terra - Lux would properly feel some inkling of a connection to guardian / TLW - the same could be said for Aqua but they’d properly be things he wouldn’t be able to place - despite in Terra’s case in which he resembles Xemnas - and with Aqua it could always be figured out (especially if they recovered her keyblade armour / if Lux ever went to that area in the radiant garden castle seeing as that technically is where he was born - aka if Lux felt a “connection” to the area in question .)
#kh3 spoilers#(this turned more into rambling oops)#⌈ I start off being shy untill you get to know me ╳ OOC ⌉#death mention /#(just in case????)#(not to sure how else to tag this but more kh3 ideas I suppose)
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Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 16
Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.
Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3
Chapter summary: Now that Even is human, he continues to attempt to mend the bonds of those closest to him.
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
---
But this determination doesn’t make it easy. There are nightmares now, memories. It’s still hard to be around fires, to strike his Bunsen burners. Any noise resembling a snap incapacitates him; Demyx unknowingly does it once in casual conversation and unexpectedly finds himself caring for a distraught Even.
Humanity’s sharpened things, good and bad. He feels more and less able. But at least there’s consistency. At least he can get himself out of bed.
He assists Ienzo as much as he can with the boy’s memorial work. Offers advice, counsels about acidity of soil, gives whatever he can. He helps Aeleus too, in his repairs. It is soothing, to do things with his hands, even though he’s mostly useless in that regard.
He tries to mend things with Dilan.
It’s hard to say what the man does. Unlike the others, he’s not quite so transparent. He disappears for hours at a time, claims it’s guard duty: “someone has to do it.” But is it?
So Even looks for him. He does not bother trying Dilan’s phone; he knows he will not answer. He finds him in a covered courtyard, surrounded by beheaded training dummies, but he’s actually sitting, meditating. Even turns to leave.
“You’ve already disrupted the peace,” Dilan says, his eyes shut. “What is it you want, Even?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I can recognize the sound of your gait at fifty meters. Any of yours, actually.” He opens his eyes and smirks. “I did receive extensive training, you know.”
“I suppose I... would like to hash things out. As it were.”
“Must you?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re stuck here for the foreseeable future. I’d rather there not be more tension than is necessary.”
He scowls.
“Is this really about that impact statement?”
Dilan sighs. He points to the ground in front of him. It’s rather unbecoming, but Even sits in the dirt, folding his legs under him. “We’ve all prattled on in our own ways about guilt,” he says. “No point going into it further.”
“Yet?”
“...Yet.” His lip curls. “I spend a lot of time in this town. Cataloging, observing. I know Ienzo means well, and yes, a memorial is only right. But… the psychological wounds of this town… have scarred unevenly. Things need to rip open, to heal well. I fear in that pain… we might get more than we bargained for. Revenge. Ostracization. I like to believe it’s not myself I’m worried about.”
“...The boys?”
“...Quite.” He knots his fingers. “Funny. I never thought I would give a wit about Demyx.”
“Me either. But here we are.”
“He’s changed. Gives me hope that perhaps I can too. A vain hope, but hope nonetheless.”
“If he can, anyone can.”
He chuckles. Then, sobering. “Tell me something, Even.”
“Of course.”
“How did you decide to go against the New Organization?”
He bides his time a little. Picks some lint off of the knee of his slacks. “Guilt. Simply. I saw Ienzo--whole, human, reeling--and it all came crashing in. Without the darkness, the pull on my mind was not so absolute. As I was recovering… Xigbar came to me. Offered me the job. How could I say no? After all, I was nothing but loyal in the past. Isa caught wind of it and helped me plan.”
“So simply?”
“So simply.” He smiles. “Dilan, I love convolution as much as the next person, but it’s not always the best choice.”
“All I did was sit here.”
“You were incredibly injured. As I’ve heard.”
His jaw twitches. “Sora is a brutal adversary. That’s all I care to say on the matter. My bones still ache when it rains.”
There’s a few moments of silence. Even looks at the tile floor, the dirt. “Dilan, I… wish things were not so difficult between us. But I’ve no insight into what you’ve been thinking, or feeling. I don’t know how to fix it. We’re alike, you and I. Prideful. Furious at the drop of a hat.”
“But your love for Ienzo helped you through. I’m afraid I have no such bonds. I love the boy, of course, but I had no patience for him when it mattered. Even before I was a Nobody… well. He was a pet. A very intelligent one, but still. I don’t think I saw him as human.”
He blinks. “No?”
“Well, a person of no consequence. A thing I could set aside when I was done with him. But you once had something outside of your career. I never did.”
This is news to him. “Never? No family? No… beloved?”
“One tends to be ostracized when one is different,” Dilan says simply.
Even wants to ask him what he means; but he also fears this is too personal. Yet, they’ve known each other twenty-some years. What is too personal? “Unfortunately.”
“I never made the time for anything other than the most brief affair. And I thought I understood love.” He chuckles. “We all thought we knew everything.”
Even smiles. “The older I get, the less I feel I know.”
His smirk fades, though. “When we all returned, I found the notion of you challenging Ansem to be frankly absurd. But I should’ve listened to what you had to say. You’ve grown; he rots. You’ve taken an active role, he waffles. He’ll give the boys meaningless words and pats on the head, and true, words were never your strong suit. But it’s you they feel comfortable coming to, in the middle of the night.”
“No need to stroke my ego.”
“As if I would?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I need to impress you, Even? You no longer have power over me.”
“It is liberating, to let go of such meaningless things,” he admits.
“I’ve been doing more than beheading sacks of sand,” he says slowly.
“Like?”
“I’m surveying the town. Seeing what needs to be fixed, drafting plans as to how that might be possible. I hope to present such work to whoever might be in charge--whether it’s that cursed committee, or an actual leader.” Dilan meets Even’s eyes. “Radiant Garden might look pretty, but it’s all rather rough. Cobbled together. Won’t exist in the long term unless infrastructure is in place.”
“That is very humble work.”
“It is nice, to use this part of myself again. Reminds me of who I used to be.” A small smile. “That report… made me realize all I’ve done to this town, and many others. I’d kept that guilt at an arm’s length.”
“And you became defensive.” Even nods. “A natural response.”
“A foolish one.” He scoffs. He points at Even. “Easier to blame you than to actually deal with it.”
He laughs a little.
“In which case, I should be thanking you. A needed wakeup call. Along with Ansem’s… difficulties. We’ve spoken a little, since then. It is hard to be gracious with him.”
“You were never the submissive type. But… help must be wanted.”
“...Yes.” He looks down. “Even, I do believe we have more in common than we thought.”
“I should hope so.”
---
But all that happens isn’t completely good.
He’s elbow-deep in distillation when his phone rings, deep in his pocket. Usually when someone calls him instead of merely messaging, it’s all business. (In fact, he can’t remember ever receiving a call just to chit-chat.) He sees it’s Demyx. “Boy, I’m in the middle of something. What do you want?”
His voice on the line is very strained when he says, “I think I’ve been poisoned.”
Even freezes, almost dropping the test tube he has in clamps. He sets it down delicately. “Describe your symptoms to me.”
“It just feels…” He’s slurring a little, and if Even doesn’t know better he’d say the boy is drunk. “Burning, my muscles are all tight. It feels like…”
“Come down here at once. No, better yet, I’ll have Dilan get you. Turn on your location.” A handy, if unsettling, feature of the phones. His heart is starting to beat fast and hard. He can’t have the boy collapsing on him--not again. As soon as he convinces Dilan to go intercept him, he digs through his stores for antidote, and then further compounds to build one, should he need to.
They’ve just been talking about revenge.
Why Demyx? But then, Even realizes he’s something of the public face of the castle, doing what he does. The townsfolk must not realize he was never an apprentice.
Before he can consider this further, he sees Dilan sidling in with the boy in his arms. He gestures to the cot. “Here. Set him over here.”
Demyx’s eyes are rolling a bit. “He’s been slipping in and out of consciousness,” Dilan explains. “Has been for about ten minutes.”
Never good. He takes the antidote, rolls up Demyx’s sleeve, and stabs the boy. No time to fuss with prepping if he’s that far gone. His eyes seem to come into better focus. “There you are.” He starts an IV, properly this time. “How do you feel?”
He’s dazed, and sweaty, and from the touch alone Even can feel the fever. His heartbeat is erratic. “Hurts,” he says.
“Where?” Can this help?
“Everywhere,” he mumbles.
Not lucid enough to recount what’s going on. Well. Even can solve problems. The generic antidote will keep him alive, negate the worst damage. He simply has to act fast. “I’m sorry, I’m hesitant to give you anything while we’re trying to get you to metabolize this nasty business. I’m going to take some blood, alright? Let’s see if I can’t figure out what this is. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep a steady antidote drip.”
“‘Kay,” he says. The word is barely intelligible. He’s shivering, rather violently. Likely had they found him much later he would’ve fallen into convulsions. Even has trouble getting a vein, but manages to get some blood at last. He wraps the boy in a blanket and rushes everything over to his workstation.
“I should tell Ienzo,” he says. If that doesn’t get Demyx’s attention, nothing will.
It works; he comes around, partially. “No. I’ll do it after.”
"You're very ill. You'll probably be very ill for the next few days." He examines the sample. Even isn’t sure whether or not to be relieved that he can see the issue right away. “Nasty business” doesn’t quite cover it; it’s frankly a miracle that Demyx is as stable as he is. Neurotoxins are always frightening. As quickly as he can, he starts building onto the base antidote.
“That bad?” he asks. Good. Keeping him talking is good.
"I'm still doing research. But you're lucky you recognized it and got to me when you did." He digs into his toxicology thesaurus, searching for the molecule; he knows he’s seen it before. It takes much too long before he has something workable, something body safe. In the midst of all this, he hears, “Even?”
His head snaps up. “Yes?”
He’s still breathing hard, but it’s not quite as labored as before. Good signs. "Will I die if I go to sleep?"
"No, you're rebounding enough. Get some rest. You'll need it."
He’s just distilling it all down when Dilan returns from notifying the cavalry.
“How’d he take it?” Even asks.
“About as well as you’d think. Looked like I’d kicked him in the groin. I had to all but restrain him from coming down here himself.”
“Ienzo’s knowledge of chemistry is not nearly up to par for something like this.” He watches, tense, to see how the serum will react to the poison on the plate. “His anxiety is much too potent.”
“And Demyx?”
“Holding steady. Asleep.” It’s all breaking down; what Even needs to see. He draws a couple of milliliters into a syringe. "It was quite alarming to see. I haven't yet gotten the story. I think you may be right, Dilan. Someone clearly has ire for us." He takes Demyx’s hand and injects the serum into the port; the boy blinks stiffly.
“What…”
"A more specific antidote. Go back to sleep."
He seems more aware now, though still slightly drunk. “What was it?”
Even sits next to him. It’s his body; he has a right to know. "A type of neurotoxin that causes your cells to stop accepting water. Essentially, it would've been a very quick, very painful death from dehydration. Not to worry, I've made a serum which seems to be combatting it. Your vitals are already stabilizing."
Even can’t read the expression on his face. "She must've known."
The perpetrator? “Who?”
"The person who did this. About my old powers--" He tries to sit up and flinches in pain; Even pushes him back down.
"Don't move. I figured you, of all people, would understand this part of palliative care."
His stress level seems to be rising. Even needs to de-escalate; he doesn’t want to risk giving Demyx anything else while his liver grapples with all this poison. "Why else would she use a poison to dry me out?"
"Who?" he repeats. A name, a description--
"The woman, the one who--" He goes very pale, his eyes watering. "I'm going to throw up."
Even gives him a wastebasket to be sick into; Dilan flinches just the slightest. This is actually a good thing. He’s getting rid of it.
Wearily, Demyx looks up. "She gave me tea. After I healed her. I thought the cut was too clean, that she acted weird--"
He sighs. "You gave her the benefit of the doubt. As any competent physician would." He pauses. "Do you remember where she lived? We should let the committee know. The last thing we need is another maniac on the loose."
He lays back down. It takes a moment, but finally he begins telling them; Dilan writes it all down in a text, committee-bound. There’s a chilling detail in it; the boy must be reflexively calling upon his reconnaissance training. He describes a home in the residential district, one that’s slowly being repopulated. He actually talks himself to sleep. Even gives him more of the serum. Even rechecks his vitals, notes that he’s stabilizing well. “He’ll pull through just fine,” he says. “But it’s going to be a tough few days. We may as well put him in his own bed.”
“We?” Dilan mutters. “Leon got back to me. They’re investigating.” Dilan hefts the boy back in his arms, carefully managing all the fluid. Even takes more of the medicine with them. It does give him a level of anxiety, to give him so much of something literally untested, but the boy seems to be responding well. The regular stuff won’t cut it.
When they arrive to the apartment, Ienzo’s frantic. He’s actually unable to speak, for the first time Even’s witnessed in a long while. It takes a beat to adjust. “He’s recovering well,” Even assures him. “It’ll be… unpleasant, for a while, but he should pull through without much trouble.”
He nods once. They settle Demyx into bed, let him rest. Even makes Ienzo some tea. The whole place is neat as a pin, the selection of brews rather… eclectic, most of them Even’s never heard of. He looks over his shoulder, towards the bed, and sees Ienzo hovering over Demyx, his hand outstretched--
“Don’t touch him without gloves,” Even says. “He’s sweating bullets and I’m not sure if it’s communicable that way.”
He looks startled.
“You wittering over him won’t help. Come sit down.”
Ienzo obeys. He’s utterly defeated. Something about this all has broken his spirit, not that Even can blame him. He gives the boy the mug, which has an odd orangey smell; Ienzo wrinkles his nose a little.
“Well I’ve no idea what you wanted. Doesn’t help you fancy yourself a gourmand.”
The joke doesn’t faze him. He takes out his phone. Do they know who did it?
“Not yet. They’re investigating. Despite it all, Demyx actually provided a fair amount of detail. Not sure what could take that child out.”
This is the wrong thing to say; Ienzo’s eyes narrow.
“That was… tactless. Excuse me.” He clears his throat. “So this still happens to you, then?”
He exhales, a heavy sound. Less so since I’ve grown, but needless to say I was NOT expecting Dilan to show up and tell me my partner was poisoned. It will pass. In time. He pauses, his thumbs hesitating over the bright screen. Dilan mentioned people seeking revenge--I was far too naive. I thought everyone would just want to move on-- His eyes are watering as he types, and he makes some spelling errors. If anyone should be targeted, it’s me. He’s innocent in this.
“They don’t know that.” Even squeezes his knee. “Perhaps this is just one lunatic, and it’s a coincidence.”
Despite the fact that he’s crying, Ienzo’s eyes flash. He begins typing--Do you really fucking believe that--before deleting it, though Even has always been good at reading upside down or backwards.
“Child, I guess not. You know comforting does not come naturally to me.”
Another sigh. I suppose I should thank you.
“As if I would let him die?”
Sometimes I feel I rather take you for granted.
Even rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter me. Least I could do.”
I--a significant pause here. Forgot what the real you was like.
Even blinks. “You mean--”
You were Vexen most of my life. Hard, calculating.
He scoffs. “And now?”
You care again.
“I am working very hard on that. As you all blather on--it is difficult, to be vulnerable, to allow tenderness. I’m afraid my pride had to take a mighty beating before I began to accept the change.”
He smiles tiredly. Well I nearly died resisting mine.
“Ah. Don’t remind me.” He gets up. “I’m going to dose your miscreant again. You still want him around, yes?”
His turn to roll his eyes. Even puts his gloves back on and approaches Demyx. His color is a bit better, but he still looks quite ill, and is still sweating. He gives him another push of the antidote.
For a few hours he and Ienzo sit, waiting. The little cat, barely bigger than Even’s palm, hops up and kneads Ienzo’s lap. Ienzo pets it idly. They both answer some messages from the committee, from the others. Demyx seems dead to the world, but best not to disturb him. Even drafts a report of what’s happened; in all this, Aerith arrives, likely informed by the committee. She seems sad; but not at all surprised. Wordlessly, she crosses over to him and begins her own examination. After a few minutes of this, she joins them at the couch.
“He’s breaking it down,” she says in a low voice. “Whatever you made is working about as well as anything I could’ve done. Just keep him hydrated. He’ll feel like shit, but he’ll be fine.” She crosses her arms. “It’s still all… so disturbing to me.”
“No news?” Ienzo asks hoarsely.
“Nothing yet.” She nods once. “I’m going to go see what I can do. This is kind of personal now. He’s my student. I’m supposed to be responsible for him.”
“Like you could’ve guessed what would happen,” Ienzo mumbles.
“This has all been rather surprising,” Even adds. “Our lives are simply not allowed to be peaceful.”
She shrugs. “Let me know how he’s doing, okay?”
After what seems like ages, Demyx finally stirs. Ienzo races over to him and, completely ignoring Even’s last warning, pulls him into an embrace. He knows the truth of their relationship, but it’s odd to see it in motion, to see the actual touch, innocent as it may be. “You scared a few years off my life. Easily. How do you feel?”
His voice is scratchy when he speaks. Even is unsure if he should give them space, or intervene. “Oh, wonderful. I could run a marathon.”
Even appraises the boy, finds his pulse stable. They get him cleaned up, change the sheets, get him back in bed. He’s certain from here Ienzo can handle the basics, and so he tactfully leaves. If he’s being honest, he’s also reeling.
It could’ve been any of them--Ienzo. And it could’ve been so much worse.
This has all exhausted him. He tries to eat the dinner Aeleus made. “...Revenge,” is all Even says when the man enters the room without turning. “What do you think of it?”
But it isn’t Aeleus’s voice that speaks. “Not nearly worth what it costs one.”
Even’s head snaps up. There’s Ansem, his ragged red scarf around his neck, but at least he’s finally trimmed his beard. “I thought you were Aeleus.”
“Not quite.”
He tries to straighten his spine. “If he hadn’t had the foresight to realize what was happening to him, he likely would’ve perished.”
“You complain, but I think you care for the boy.” He smiles. There’s an emptiness to it.
Even turns. “You said you sought revenge on us. On the Organization. Did you mean it so literally?”
“You know me. Ever afraid to get my hands dirty.” He shrugs. “If I had been faced with one of you in the flesh… I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“Do you still feel angry?” Even isn’t sure why he asks.
“I do not get to slowly come into my own like all of you,” he says. “Rather… my self is linear.”
“I’m afraid you’re not making much sense.”
“Being a Nobody cuts one off from the world. I tried to do so voluntarily, with little success. Undoing all that is not nearly so… seamless.”
Even tuts. “It isn’t seamless for me either.”
“...No."
"You used to be so certain."
"As were you. Odd how it happens. All humanity does is make things less clear."
Even frowns. "You think so?"
"...That's my hypothesis, anyway."
He snorts. "Some sound science you have there."
Ansem shrugs. "What do you think of it?"
"Since I've been human…" It takes work to find the words. "The word that comes to mind is "determined." It is a wholeness. Not to say I haven't been suffering the… psychological consequence of it all. Ienzo says I care again. I suppose that is apt. But it all takes some practice."
"...I see. Did you… feel anything?"
"As a Nobody?" He snorts. "Hardly. As you said. Cut off from the world, and all in it." He feels as though he's not saying anything of substance. "Self-forgiveness is… a process. To put it mildly."
Ansem nods slowly. "And have you begun?"
Even blinks. "I… like to think so." It's a realization. "If I don't--"
"What is the point?"
"Precisely." The air is oddly tender. He swallows. "And yourself?"
"It's all so nebulous--"
"What holds you back?" He's not angry, he's just tired. "Your son adores you, and you have three men falling over themselves for your forgiveness. If that isn't external validation, I don't know what is."
Ansem seems startled by this.
Even stands. "I should like to go check on Demyx."
---
Where to go from here?
Nothing he says will have an effect on Ansem. That much is clear. The fool is stuck in his own head despite the hands reaching for him. Ienzo, Even, Demyx. But yet… the thought of giving up on him makes Even vaguely nauseous. Why? Ansem surely gave up on him, on them.
He sits writing a report about Demyx's poisoning. Admittedly it feels good to know this serum helped him, did some good. One life saved. Hundreds to go before he gets back to zero. Thousands.
It doesn't work like that, does it?
He's considering this when he hears a knock at his door. "Enter," he says wearily.
Ansem. "Are you busy?"
Even considers his notebook. "That depends if you have anything interesting to say. Waffling exhausts me."
He nods once. He still looks a bit grizzled. "May I sit?"
"If you must."
He does. "I considered what you said."
"Oh, thank you."
The sarcasm is ignored. "You feel you are who you're meant to be?"
"...Getting there. I suppose. Better than I was." He sets the notebook aside. "What would it take for you to forgive yourself? Emotionally, materially."
"You truly want to know? It's not a barb?"
He nods.
For a moment his eyes flicker back and forth in the middle distance, thinking. "I wish I could be proven wrong."
"About what?"
"Myself. All this. I suppose I want to be told it's not my fault." A frustrated sigh. "But is it? Who gets to decide?"
"Not us, surely," Even says. It's odd to realize. Of course they can't make these decisions; they can barely determine right from wrong. "So why waste your time thinking about it?"
"Not us." He bobs his head.
"One supposes it could all be fate," he adds.
"That we're still alive?"
Even nods.
"You mentioned this before." He shakes his head and then leans forward on his knees. His body seems to be weighing him down. "Where did you begin?"
"I tried to start with others. But this change didn't take until I decided to begin with myself. Do you want that? Don't consider what everyone else thinks. What do you think? Do you want to change?"
A tremulous silence. Then, "Yes."
"That's the first step, then."
He nods once. "Even?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
The phrase is so absurd; he snorts. "Right. Fat lot of good I ever did you."
"You want to save me. That means something now."
"...Don't make me regret it."
#beyond this existence: atonement#even (kingdom hearts)#demyx#ienzo#dilan#ansem the wise#beyond this existence
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Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 4
Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.
Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
---
He wakes slowly.
He’s in a bed, a bed not his own, in a strange, blank, barren room. He sits up.
“Ah, friend, you’re awake,” says the voice.
He turns towards the source of it. Xehanort is dressed in all black, but it’s different than the lab coats they’ve worn; it’s got beading, zippers instead of a catch.
He blinks, once. His mind is curiously clear. He reaches up to his jugular to take his pulse, noting first that there is one, then that it’s almost unnervingly slow and steady. “I suppose it worked?” he asks, his voice flat. "We've no hearts?"
“Quite--we are Nobodies." He tilts his head slightly. "We’ve been worried about you. You’re the last one to wake. I thought you may not have made it.”
He stares down at his hands; they look the same, and so does the long blonde hair on his shoulder, freed of its usual restraint. “I see.”
“How do you feel?”
“Very much alert,” he admits. Less physically tired than he can remember.
“Emotionally?”
It’s an odd word to hear out loud. He realizes he is numb, but not a human numbness; moreso an emptiness, but a very bearable one. A comfortable one. “My head is clear,” he says instead. It’s true; unfettered by emotion, he processes this all easily, without stress.
Xehanort smiles, but there’s nothing in it. “Excellent. Seems this experiment was a success. While you were resting, we’ve chosen a sign of brotherhood, new names to usher us into this new life. I’ve chosen one for you--should you want it.”
“And what is that?”
“Vexen,” he says slowly. “The Recusant’s Sigil is said to be good luck. I’ve added it to all our names--anagrammed them.”
“How creative of you.” There’s no sarcasm behind it; nothing at all. “Very well. I suppose that is who I’ll be.” He sits up, bringing his legs over the side of the bed. “Where is Ien--the little one?”
“He goes by Zexion now,” Xehanort says. “He was the first to wake, after myself, of course. The boy seems to have taken to this new life easier than I ever could have guessed. It suits him. He has no more fear, no more sensory overload. He’s purely himself.”
Hearing this, Vexen feels nothing for the boy; no concern. It’s liberating, he realizes. “That is good news indeed. Your name already contains an X. Though I don’t suppose only that will do.”
He shakes his head slowly. “They call me Xemnas.”
There’s much to do, and it’s all so much easier than it used to be.
They’re somewhere else now, a place still taking shape. What starts as a two-story building morphs into something far larger than Radiant Garden’s castle ever was. As soon as he craves a resource, it seems to appear, seemingly out of nowhere; soon he’s able to identify this morphing substance as the same that the lesser Nobodies were made of. They study their new bodies for weeks, months; they discover their immense capabilities for magic. Zexion, in a very short amount of time, becomes a rather skilled mage; necessary, as the Heartless target him mercilessly, despite Lexeaus’s best efforts to protect him. While he and Vexen continue to spend time together, for studies, they’re beginning to drift, but Vexen doesn’t care much. There’s nothing behind the boy’s eyes aside from a cold calculation.
They find that they have weapons, extensions of their wills, each personalized to its user; more exciting yet, they have their own magics, in alignment with their personalities, a sort of expression of the deepest essences of the self. Vexen’s newfound command over ice is infinitely useful in his experiments, though it is disappointing that it is just ice, not water.
It seems every time they come to a momentous discovery--of worlds, of hearts, of matter--Xemnas always dangles something out of reach. For this Organization, Kingdom Hearts will be the key to all knowledge. Vexen works towards this goal with pleasure. In the chaotic, entropic nothingness--something entirely different than darkness or light--his experiments thrive, and after years, the replicas begin to take shape, form. They incubate.
Six years have passed in a blink; for the first time Xemnas speaks on his desire to gather more members. He needs a Keyblade wielder, so he says, to reap hearts. So they all, in their own ways, go searching across the worlds. And they do find someone, a humanoid Nobody, a seventeen-year-old boy they call Demyx. But the disappointments come hard and fast with this one. Initially, Vexen is hopeful; the boy’s power over water seems to be something nearly prodigal. But he is not very academically bright. He’s lazy, he would rather fool around with his weapon, an instrument called a sitar. They all can barely tolerate him, though inexplicably, Xigbar strikes up a rapport with the boy. Very well. If someone of high rank can keep him in line, all the better.
Because they have ranked themselves. Of course, Xemnas is the leader; as the youngest, it’s only natural for Zexion to be the sixth of the six original apprentices; Saïx, Axel, and Demyx follow when the latter arrives; but internally there’s some squabbling over the rest of the numbers. Vexen is beyond disappointed with his own designation of only fourth, but no matter, he works alone the majority of the time anyway.
In quick succession, they’re joined by three more--Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene. Not one is a Keyblade wielder, and aside from the passing intrigue of studying the first humanoid Nobody that is a biological woman, they are nothing but a thorn in Vexen’s side. Xemnas’s frustration is obvious, and Vexen feels mostly the same.
All of a sudden Zexion is no longer a little boy, but a young man. He had, more or less, what seemed to be a normal puberty. He never expresses interest in sex or sexuality, unlike some of the other members; but then again, Zexion was never a people person, and while Vexen knows that the scientist in him should want to investigate this potential quirk of Nobody biology, the part of him that once raised Ienzo is repulsed at questioning the young man farther about these matters.
One of these days, when Zexion’s about fifteen, he arrives in Vexen’s lab. “Six,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Do you require assistance?”
Zexion smiles politely. “I hope to have a word, if that’s alright. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” It’s easy now for him to speak, to compose himself; as Xemnas said, purely himself. If anything, the boy is too talkative.
“I can spare a few moments.”
“Very well. Then I’ll be brief. I’m aware our tutoring sessions take up a good deal of our time, time both of us could use more efficiently. I feel I’m far enough in my education to pursue it on my own. Though I must thank you for your years of working with me.” He bows a little. The sight of this old custom unnerves Vexen.
He says it so quickly, so simply. For some reason, Vexen is surprised--though shouldn’t he have seen this coming?
(And is he crazy, or is he feeling hurt? No--mustn’t. Nobodies cannot feel, though the neophytes love to pretend, especially Demyx. The miscreant must be rubbing off on him more than he thought. He curses the fact that they are both part of the reconnaissance team.)
Vexen smiles. “It was my pleasure. You know you’re very intelligent. I have the utmost faith in you. My door is always open for you, Zexion, should you have questions.”
“Thank you, Vexen. Good day.”
The years pass--they cannot find their Keyblade wielder, no matter how hard they try. The others are frustrated too, especially the neophytes, as they’re sent on the most search missions. At least there is some progress--Heartless made, worlds brought under control of darkness, his replicas becoming more stable yet. Vexen hopes he may be able to get one to wield a Keyblade.
Zexion turns eighteen. Vexen’s initial prediction was right; the young man is relatively small, slight, and probably always will be. While his face still is a bit soft, he’ll lose the babyishness in time. As the first person to truly come of age as a Nobody, he allows Vexen to prod him, somewhat indulgently. “I suppose it is interesting, though it would be more interesting if I knew the difference,” he admits, in a moment of unusual candor.
Vexen looks up at him on the table. He gently pulls free the needle that was taking his blood, and heals the tiny wound. Magic has made his doctoring less barbaric, simpler. “Would you rather have been human?” he asks.
He thinks about it. “I’ve been a Nobody ten years--longer than I was ever a human.”
“Yet, not a direct answer to my question.”
He rolls down the sleeve of his cloak. “I don’t believe so,” he says. “What I remember from that time is mostly negative--the panic attacks, the constant inundation of stimuli interpreted as pain, the nightmares, the untreated PTSD. But now… now I am stable, and in control of myself. I do not feel I’ve missed anything--though the neophytes insist the opposite.” He rolls his eyes. “As if I would ever find any of those shenanigans of interest.”
Vexen nods. “As long as you are fulfilled.”
“I am.” He pauses, smiles a bit. “I’m not the one who told you this, but the superior might soon have a mission for us. One elsewhere.”
His interest is piqued; but at the same time, he feels another wave of frustration that number six is more privy to this information than he. “Elsewhere?”
Zexion shakes his head. “That’s all he said. Though who knows--he’s become more and more enigmatic over the years. It is… trying.”
Vexen chuckles. “Well, I doubt I’ll find anything different about these samples, but should there be anything of note, I’ll contact you.”
“Keep it for posterity,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “Who knows, I could be the first of many, to live this way.”
“Child, you have a strange sense of humor.”
---
Two things happen in quick succession--they find their Keyblade wielder, and Castle Oblivion is established as a second base. Roxas is an amnesiac, utterly zombified, more than just Nobody numbness. But considering the stories they’ve heard of Sora from Xemnas, that they were able to capture his Nobody is a feat in and of itself.
He’s forced to release his first successful replica to Xemnas. It really is a puppet--it will walk, talk, perform bodily functions--but it has no sense of self, not yet. He knows it’s too soon to let No. i into the field--it needs more extensive testing. Xemnas insists. They need insurance in case something were to happen to Roxas, mostly because Sora’s allies are searching for him. Not when they are so close to finally making progress on Kingdom Hearts. With it, knowledge and, perhaps for those interested, humanity again.
Vexen isn’t sure of his own opinion on the matter. To be a Nobody is a sort of freedom; he can research, experiment without guilt, without the need for social interaction. But as Nobodies they do not technically exist, literally speaking; doesn’t that in itself negate everything that’s been discovered?
So with what is almost anxiety, No. i is christened Xion, and welcomed into their ranks. But Vexen is not allowed to stay and observe it; he, and another replica, are needed in Castle Oblivion. He, Zexion, and Lexeaus are given dominion over the lower floors; Larxene, Axel, and Marluxia the upper. Most galling yet, Marluxia, number eleven for god’s sake, is made their tentative leader. While Marluxia has proven himself time and again in the field and at the table, why does this man deserve such a rank?
But Zexion and Lexeaus do not want to hear him complain about it. “Everyone’s work is important here,” Zexion says softly, huddled over his lexicon, poetically called “Book of Retribution”--Vexen does not pretend to understand that boy’s mind. “Yours especially. Focus on the task at hand.”
It’s a big task for the boy (the man, Vexen reminds himself, he’s nineteen); they would be using Zexion’s extensive illusions on Sora, as Naminé leaches his memories. They cannot afford a heart that special to remain out in the wide world; not when he actually has the power to put an end to them. Vexen knows Zexion’s powerful, knows of his stamina; but maintaining so many complex illusions for so long was a lot to ask of him. Castle Oblivion seems to like the boy's magic, to hold its shape. Even so.
But they discover more is afoot; namely, that the neophytes have insane ideas to overthrow Xemnas, using Sora. Quickly, Zexion, Lexeaus, and Vexen devise a plan. While Sora has arrived, Riku soon follows, lured there by a carefully placed clue in the realm of darkness. They’d use Riku--or some semblance of him--to stop Marluxia from using the boy. It takes a bit of cleverness. They have to make Marluxia think they’re on his side, so the replica again changes hands.
But something goes wrong. The replica isn’t acting under their control, it’s developed its own will (what did they expect, forcing him into this so quickly). Marluxia, oh so casually, says that, unless Vexen can pacify the boy himself, he’ll report him and his failure, which can only go one way. Vexen's long had a feeling that he'd be eliminated once he outgrew his usefulness.
Very well.
So he fights the boy, and it’s much more difficult than he would have thought. The boy truly is something prodigal, something nearly godlike. He’s defeated, but is still alive. He already knows what’s coming, and something gives way. He tells the boy how to get his memories back, how to discover Roxas, giving him the key to a Twilight Town. When they meet again, the boy’s almost worked it out, what they are.
And then, to be crass, it hits the shit.
But he doesn’t expect Axel to be the one to execute him.
#beyond this existence: atonement#vexen#even (kingdom hearts)#zexion#xemnas#ienzo#beyond this existence#can you tell it's been a while since i played chain of memories#sorry in advance if i forgot something
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Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 15
Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.
Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3
Chapter summary: Even realizes he can no longer live in isolation, and attempts to mend the bonds with those around him.
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
---
Stuck.
Like a record, he repeats the same things over and over again. None of his experiments are promising, none of the reports he writes insightful. He’s getting purely nothing done. Months are passing, he’s losing time--he fears he’s losing more than that. Is this depression? Insanity? Something isn’t right.
He’s trying to distill a compound one of these nothing days when the beaker suddenly shatters, spattering his arm with caustic materials. Despite precautions and gear, he’s rather injured. As gently as possible, he picks the glass out of the wound, washes away all of the compound, wraps it securely. It stings terrifically, adding to his patchwork of burns. Could he stitch this himself? Absolutely. Should he, when someone else could fix it easily?
He meets Demyx in the hall near their apartment; the young man is toting a laundry basket. “Good. You’re here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? What did you do to yourself?”
“What indeed. Either way I need your help.”
Something like smugness leaches into his green eyes. Even regrets coming down; but he’s already here. “Come on. Sit down.” He brings Even inside, reaching for the medic bag by the door. “Is it bleeding? Can I see it?”
What about sterility? “Aren’t you going to wash your hands first?”
He huffs a little. “I already cleaned them with magic.” He takes Even’s hand and examines the wound. “Ouch. How’d you do that?”
He watches with something like fascination as the boy heals him, easing the pain and chemical burns without even touching it. He’s sure the boy’s hands are actually clean (or hopes) but there’s something disquieting about the lack of gloves. The wound doesn’t scar; not that it would’ve been noticeable anyway. “A beaker got too hot, and burst. These things happen. All the glass I work with is so old, it’s only a matter of time. I would’ve tended to it myself, but…”
“I’m sure you would’ve,” Demyx says. “How’s that feel?”
“Better. Faster than what I could’ve done. You have my thanks.”
Rather generously (and petulantly?) the boy adds, “It’s not too late for you to learn.”
He scoffs. “What, old dog, new tricks?” Even asks. “I’ve studied enough medicine. This might surprise you, but I don’t exactly have… the proper countenance.”
He laughs. “It’s okay.”
He rolls down his sleeve. “I’ve enough of bodies, I think.” Enough of the physical sicknesses, the injuries, the neediness.
“Yeah?”
“The human body is so… fragile. So fallible.”
“I know,” Demyx says. “Preaching to the choir.”
Even considers the boy, the drollness of his expression. He knows he’s changed, but is Demyx really passionate enough about this to go through with it? It’s a lot of draining, thankless work if one’s heart is not truly in it. “You’re still… gung-ho, about this, then?”
He blinks. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I recall once upon a time you were quite flighty.”
His expression hardens, and his tone is somewhat sharp when he says, “Then isn’t now.”
Great. The last thing he needs is to alienate one of the few people who can tolerate him. (To think, there’d be a day when he’d value Demyx’s presence.) “I… apologize if that remark offended you.”
He kneels by the hearth and begins building a fire. “It didn’t.”
He’s absolutely lying. “Yet your tone is rather cold.”
Demyx doesn’t miss a beat. “As is yours. As is all of you, actually.”
“Cold like ice?” Arguing, volatility, is so easy. Why isn’t anything else?
He looks up. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I think we’re far beyond tailoring responses for tact.”
“Are we?” Demyx asks. He crumples some paper and lights it with a match. Even flinches, fighting hard against the memory (Buh-bye.). The boy’s still talking. “For a while I thought we were getting closer. But you’re still hiding yourself away, so. I don’t know what that means. You can go, if you want. Your arm should be fine.”
So he’s noticed. Someone’s noticed, and cared. But this doesn’t make him feel any better. Because like everything else he’s tossed this boy aside too. “...Quite. Thank you.”
“Sure,” he says dully, still in front of the fire.
Maybe he can salvage this. “All these… words about the linearity of progress, of healing. You must realize that this isn’t as easy for me as it is for you.”
His head snaps up. “It’s not easy. It’s never easy. Not for a minute. You don’t know the half of it.”
Made it worse again.
His eyes are so piercing. “You know I take meds? We both do. Otherwise the trauma literally makes me unable to function. And I’ve heard Ienzo talk about what happened in the basement, and what happened at Castle Oblivion. I know, Even. I know what you did to him, and to Ansem.”
A sharp pain shoots through him, the first in a long while; but it quickly withers. Of course. They’re so close… Ienzo must have told him everything. A wave of shame eclipses the pain. “You must be very angry with me, then.”
“Ienzo forgives you. So I do too.” His tone is not at all forgiving. He keeps building the fire.
“You must understand, then. How difficult it is to move on. I see the reminders of it every day.”
“You think I don’t?” Then, a little less harshly, “Even, you can’t keep living like this.”
He feels caught. “I know.” He sits, the weight of his body too much. “I’m aware this is not healthy. Physically or mentally. What am I to do? Burden that boy with the weight of these things I supposedly feel?”
“What about Ansem? Or Aeleus or Dilan? Aren’t they your friends?”
So sharp, yet so naive. ““Friend” is a loose term.”
He’s facing Even now. “What about me, then? I’m not... I’m not him, Even. I’m not Demyx.”
Another pain comes back. Just as suddenly, “Yet you wear the same face and have the same name.”
“You know what I mean.” He bites his lip. “Do you want to get better? Or are you just running from anything meaningful?”
Even feels his face flush. (He’s right.) “Part of it is… I hope… practicality,” he admits. “I recall that, for you… the intensity of your returning humanity pushed you to the edge. I do not wish to experience that. I do not need my existence to be so… precarious.” No need to worry anyone about a wretch like him.
The boy sighs. “Is this about Ansem? About when he tried to--”
“I do not wish to be a burden. On anyone. I do not crave… pity.”
“You can’t stay in this middle state forever, though. You need to let your heart grow.”
He looks away.
“I can help you,” Demyx says. “I know how it feels, Even. I think I might be the only one.”
He has a point. He realizes he’s been avoiding asking Demyx about that experience. But why? To spare himself pain? “Was it moreso… memories, or feelings?”
He shrugs. “The memories came… later,” he says. “It was… anxiety more than anything. And nightmares. And then… I…”
Fear so like Even’s own. “You fell in love?” he asked dryly.
“Well, yeah. It’s about… seeing and being seen, or whatever. When I realized he loved me back, it… it hurt. I thought I was having a heart attack. But I don’t think it necessarily has to be romantic. You have to… decide to be human.” Even’s just asking himself the question when the boy adds, “Don’t you want that?”
“I like to think so.” But does he? Is it worth the pain? It’s already so potent. And if the trauma makes them unable to function… what will it do to Even? He needs to be of use. He can’t fall apart.
“It’s better than being numb all the time.”
“Worth the anxiety that makes you unable to function?”
Irritation flickers across his face. “Even, I don’t know, okay? I can’t make this better for you. I can’t convince you to want something when you so clearly don’t.”
The anger surprises him; but why should it? Demyx is being so earnest, and he’s stepping on it.
He lifts his chin. “You want to be miserable and alone, that’s fine by me.”
Even isn’t angry in return; he’s just tired. “Well. If that’s how you feel.”
---
He drags himself back to his lab. That bastion. There are still shards of glass on the table, but he doesn’t sweep them up. He sits, heavily. Shivers. Debates giving into this growing urge to break down. What good would it possibly do?
Even can’t live like this.
Vexen could live in isolation, could thrive in it. So could Even-of-the-past, to a lesser degree. But now?
Now.
He wants to change--or claims to want it, anyway. Again that boy--so underestimated--managed to gut him. He’s running away, hiding, closing himself off. How can he possibly make things better doing this? Not for himself, but anyone? He can’t do high quality work if his mental health worsens. No wonder he’s gotten absolutely nothing accomplished.
He needs someone.
It’s a cold realization, colder than the room he’s in. He needs connection. He is not special, not an outlier. He stands, as though physically propelled by this thought, and crosses over to the window. It’s snowing. A full year gone by and… nothing. Something in his throat aches.
To give in, or not.
The lab door creaks. Even knows without looking who it is. “Hey,” Demyx says. “Listen, I--”
The words fall from him. “You were right.”
“What?” he sounds shocked. The pain is worsening. He feels something like a helplessness, viewing a storm on the horizon. It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not.
“Does your hearing need to be checked? You were right.” He crosses his arms as though to physically keep it together. “You can’t do algebra, yet you have a better understanding of humanity than I after years of study. It is… galling.”
“Uh… sorry? I guess?” He hears Demyx take a few steps.
“I’ve been making excuses. I’ve been… lazy. I’ve been trying to save myself from this… remorse, because I don't want any of you see me fall apart. Why is it you care, Demyx? After all my belittling of you?”
“That was years ago.”
“Does it matter?” Abuse is abuse is abuse.
Even hears him sigh. He feels a hand touch his arm and is immensely grateful for the curtain of his hair.
“I feel… stuck. I didn’t realize… that this feeling is not productive.” It’s hard to say this out loud.
Gently, “You can change that.”
So certain. He nods.
“Besides, we’re… we’re sort of family, right? What other reason do I need?”
It’s this that breaks him, that forces the as-yet-fought tears in his eyes to run over. Even doesn’t deserve kindness.
In his periphery, Demyx leans against the windowsill. “It’s hard to be vulnerable. I know. Especially after what we all went through. It fucking sucks, right? That to survive all that, now we have to deal with this…”
“...Psychological consequence?”
“I was going to say “bullshit”, but that works too.”
He tries to collect himself. “I forget what it is to… care,” Even says. “But isn’t that what’s been missing? From this… atonement? I can feel passionate about numbers, about the science, but I haven���t seen beyond that. So you’re right. It’s time to shore up. I should at the very least be the bigger grown-up than you.”
He laughs. “I know you didn’t have many options, but… thanks for letting me be the one to deliver the replica.”
“Thanks for following through. For once.”
“I’m going to hug you now.”
“I’d rather you didn't.”
“Too late.” Demyx squeezes him once, lightly, around the waist. It’s so unfamiliar, to be touched; he almost doesn’t know how to react. Then, equally as overwhelming, “Come have dinner with us.”
Perhaps it is for this reason that he says, “...Alright. I… it is rather cold in here, isn’t it? I should get that looked at.” He turns his face away, mops at his eyes. “You’re not half-bad.”
“Back at you.”
---
Let the heart grow.
How?
He’s rebuilt this tenuous connection between himself and Demyx--but it’s the newest, has undergone the least stress. There’s so much more he has to deal with.
Decide to be human. As if it’s so simple.
Isn’t it? Embrace these feelings, rather than reject them, even if it’s pain. Would it be so bad to come apart? To let himself be helped? It’s going to be necessary. All this repression does not bode well for him, physically and mentally. He can’t afford to die young (relatively speaking), not when he has so much to make up for.
He takes it in turn to try and socialize again, to spend time in the communal spaces.
“It’s good to see you here,” Aeleus admits.
“I’m afraid my pride’s taken a good beating,” Even says. “Ienzo’s miscreant gave me a talking-to about isolating myself. I figure he’s right.” He shakes his head.
“Demyx was always perceptive,” he says.
“As I’m finding out. At least there’s that. I suppose Ienzo could have done much worse for himself.”
He chuckles a little. He’s still working on some kind of puzzle, spread willy-nilly on the floor. “The constellations,” he says. “I’m struggling to remember them. They’ve been different for so long.”
“You and your astrology.” Even rolls his eyes.
“Many things impact a heart.”
“Apparently.”
Aeleus places his piece at last. “I found that little cat of theirs up here and nearly panicked. I thought it had messed it all up. Ten thousand pieces--I might’ve cried.”
“Only to start again?” Even asks dryly.
He shrugs. “It’s a good way to use the mind. My work has been so physical lately. And so tedious. But at least if we can get the heating fixed, we’ll be warmer.”
“Is it work you enjoy?”
“I like being of use,” Aeleus says. “What is it you’ve been working on?”
Even shifts a little in the chair. He’s almost out of practice with conversation. “A fool’s errand, I suppose,” he admits. “I… am trying to develop something like an antidepressant. Something to lessen the way trauma impacts the body.”
Aeleus looks up. “That’s hardly foolish. The people here could use that.”
“I hope so. But there’s the sad truth that it must go through clinical trials--and who would trust me?”
“I’d trust you,” Aeleus says. “I’ll be your guinea pig.”
Even scoffs a little. “That’s hardly necessary.”
“I… could use such a thing,” he says quietly. He picks up another tiny piece; in his hands, it’s comically small.
He frowns. “Was Castle Oblivion very rough on you?”
“It wasn’t… easy. I…” He hesitates. “I do have very intense nightmares.”
“...About what?”
“Any number of things.” Aeleus keeps his eyes on the puzzle. “I was not able to protect Zexion, or you. I do not know how he passed--but my mind likes to torture me with the possibilities. That scar…” He shudders. “Nor… you as well.”
“I’m not sure if it would help--but I have both answers.”
Aeleus looks back up.
As gently as possible, Even explains.
For a moment, there’s a crack in his normally stoic expression, something like shock and horror; Even’s again unsure if he’s caused yet more damage. But then Aeleus nods slowly. “I… see. That must’ve been terrifying for you.”
“I suppose. I’m not sure if my mind is not yet prepared to process it… but I do not nightmare much. Perhaps because I don’t sleep so deeply.”
“You were always a restless sleeper,” he says dully. “Thank you for… telling me. Knowledge is closure.”
Even nods. “I do hope yours wasn’t nearly so brutal.”
Aeleus shrugs. “Brutality is relative, I think. We… we unsure of why you were so injured.”
“Yes, well. The scars aren’t so pretty, but I never cared much about outward appearances.”
Aeleus considers the puzzle in front of him. For a moment he says nothing.
“I… suppose I am softening,” Even says. “We must… have to be here. Otherwise, why would we have all pulled through?”
He gives a small smile. “You’ve made progress.”
“Very, very slowly.”
Aeleus takes his hand. “Better than not at all… unlike some people here.”
It’s unusual for Aeleus to be so suggestive. “You mean Ansem?”
“I’m not sure what it would take to reach him. I… have tried.”
“I have too.” Even frowns.
“But you can’t help those who don’t want it. No matter what you do.” He admires his handiwork. “Shall we go get some lunch?”
---
It’s this Even thinks about later that night, his head pounding. He scans textbooks, trying to understand. Perhaps it’s not a loss of will to live in the literal sense--but rather, the emotional or spiritual. Medicine can’t touch it. Only determination and a careful hand.
He hears his door bang open. It’s much too late for visitors; something must be wrong. He looks over his shoulder. There’s Ienzo, in pajamas and a dressing gown. In the poor lighting, it’s hard to see his face. “Out for a nighttime stroll?” he asks. “Or did you have a lovers’ quarrel?” Things seem much too perfect between the two boys. It’s only a matter of time.
Ienzo’s voice has a jagged edge to it when he says, “You lied.”
Oh.
Of course. He’s processing.
Gently, he asks, “What is this about?”
He’s breathing hard. “You lied to me. About Ansem.”
This is going to hurt; Even can feel it. “Yes, I know. I thought you did, too.” He swivels his stool.
Ienzo comes into the light. He looks manic, his face pink. “I want to know why. Why did you all do it to me? Did you think I would not understand? That I--” He’s tearing up.
Where to begin unraveling? How to help this boy? Slowly, he gathers his words. “It is… handy to blame it all on Xehanort. Truthfully, I like to think that it came from a place of protection. But that is all bunk. It we were to separate you from Ansem’s influence, then we could continue our work, unfettered. Simply… if you had nothing but us, you would rely on us, and comply with us. I cannot overstate it--as soon as it happened, I regretted it, Ienzo, because I saw how devastated you were. But by then it was too late to undo the damage. And I was a weak and selfish man. I really did believe we were better off without him.” No point telling him about the bungled escape. It will make no difference.
The boy says nothing; he seems stricken. Even’s never seen him this upset; not in a long, long while.
“It is one of my biggest mistakes,” he admits. He clucks his tongue. “I cared, but I didn’t care enough, in the right way. I should’ve--as soon as we did what we did, I should’ve tried to retrieve him. Or at the very least, tried to take you out of that situation. Let you grow up normally, and not become a stunted husk. But I didn’t. I… I held my work above all, and in the process, destroyed what was most important.” Called, tempted by darkness, a temptation that severed all. “Does that answer your question?”
He’s still breathing hard, tears running disjointedly down his face.
“I do not expect your forgiveness,” Even says softly. “I do not deserve it, either, after all the suffering I’ve retroactively put you through. But know that I… I am trying to atone. To grow. It is so… difficult--Ienzo?”
A sob escapes him; he seems surprised by it, and covers his mouth. Even stands, to console him, but Ienzo flinches away from him. “You are not well. Sit.”
He obeys, perching on the cot and hugging himself tightly. Even takes a deep breath and chances sitting next to him.
“Pain hides in pockets,” Even says. “Compartmentalizes. You knew of our betrayal, but for whatever reason, only now are you processing what it meant to you.” He exhaled. “If you wish for us to have no further contact--” Though how will he go on?
Ienzo unwittingly solves this dilemma. “I don’t wish that,” he says. “I… I want to trust you. If only because the thought of holding onto this is too much.” His voice is full of glass.
How woeful, to see him like this again. Even feels a dull pain of his own, mirrored in his chest and throat. “Then don’t.”
“You’re all I knew.”
“...I know.” This is stirring up all the guilt, already so close to the surface.
“I wanted to please you. I would've done anything to impress you.” He shakes his head. He’s trembling. “Once it all started… I never wanted people to get hurt.”
He sighs. “Nor did I. But then… I convinced myself that it was all alright, not only because it was in the interest in something greater, but because our victims supposedly consented. To be more colloquial, denial is one hell of a drug.”
He’s still so distraught. But he hasn't left. That has to mean something.
“The only person you owe forgiveness is yourself,” Even says softly, trying to meet the boy’s eyes. He takes Ienzo’s hand and, when he doesn’t pull it away, gives it a squeeze. “Remember that.”
Slowly, Ienzo nods.
“He…” His words are failing him.
He blinks. His eyes are swollen.
Knowledge is closure. Lying won’t help. “He threatened you.”
He squints. “Ansem?”
“No. Xehanort.”
Ienzo doesn’t seem sure whether or not to accept this; Even can’t blame him.
Tell the truth. He was aware it immediately contradicts what he's just said. “He… if I did not do what he said, he was going to…”
A mixture of surprise and apprehension fills his face. “But he always--” A pause, then realization. “I was a tool to him.”
“It’s what I was afraid of.” He tries to collect himself. “In that moment you gave him what he needed. I feared he would mold you into what he wanted.”
“Didn’t he?” A pause. “Didn’t he do the same to you?”
“Not quite. It was easier to be numb, to let the darkness take hold… than to claw my way out. I’m so selfish.”
“You did it for me.”
“There was still no need to lie to you. No need to retraumatize you. Those lies took over your heart, your mind. I am… I’m so sorry, Ienzo.”
“Thank you,” the boy says softly.
Even offers him a handkerchief. Ienzo wipes at his face.
“I suppose I always sort of knew,” he admits. “I remember… I remember you tried to save me.” He crumples the cloth in one hand. “When they took our hearts.”
“He’d promised me he wouldn’t touch you. I should have known better. And then…” It’s hard to admit these things, harder still to keep them inside. “When I woke as Vexen… all my ties to everyone were shattered. I felt nothing for you.”
“I felt nothing either.”
“And because I felt nothing… all the easier to not do anything. But that doesn’t justify it.” He can feel his own emotions rising, something like pain. “Child, I--”
“It’s alright,” Ienzo says softly.
“It isn’t. It will never be. You have to carry these things with you for the rest of your life. You could’ve--”
“Don’t you?” He’s still crying. “Suffering for me will not negate it, Even. For either of us. But we have… we have one another. We have time. I do not… want to spend much longer agonizing about my past. Not when I have a future. Which… because of what you did… will be a long one. Without darkness.” His voice is a bit steadier now. “Don’t forget I pushed you away too. I am not innocent in this.”
“You were a child--”
“No. I am so frustrated. You and Ansem both believe I can do no wrong. Even, you were in meetings with me. You know the things I did, the things I set in motion. The people who’ve--died because I decided it must be.” He touches his breastbone. “That will always weigh on my conscience. So, I’m sure, will your own offenses. But…”
“It can be fixed,” he says, to himself.
“Yes. Much… like us.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them. “I am… rather tired. I believe I gave Demyx a fright, running out like this. We can discuss this further when we’ve had some sleep.”
“...Sure.” He feels something rising in him. “You’re… so young to be so wise.”
Ienzo turns a little. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. Some would say too much. Good night, Even.” He shuts the door behind him.
For a moment Even sits reeling. He feels something tighten in him, harsh and sharp and painful, like those moments of collapse but far worse. He wonders, briefly, if it might be his time--the years and years of stress and malnourishment wreaking havoc on his body--before he remembers what Demyx said.
He isn’t dying. He’s becoming.
---
Even wakes suddenly, unaware he’s blacked out. He’s slumped awkwardly on his cot, his neck wrenched painfully. There’s a film of sweat on his skin, his head is pounding, and the muscles in his chest ache like he’s been kicked there.
He sits up. Considers.
Things feel… odd. As though they’ve shifted. It’s not completely unpleasant. He supposes it may be considered a wholeness, despite the guilt still remaining.
He’s done it, then.
Humanity lays over him heavily, leaving behind it a sort of determination to set things right.
He gathers the hair out of his face. Wipes away the sweat.
It’s time to begin.
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