Chapter Text
Another night of restless tossing and turning dragged on into another exhausted start to his morning. It was routine at this point.
Vexen eased up from his bed, his old bones creaking when he willed himself to the edge of the mattress.
Visiting Radiant Garden had been a mistake. No external punishment may have come from it, but Vexen's vulnerable psyche was paying the price twofold.
Day after day, thoughts of Ienzo increasingly crowded his mind. Memories of his childhood. His ill adjustment into the Organization all those years ago. How he might be doing now, today, now that he was free of it. And… if he ever thought of Vexen the way he constantly thought of him.
If he'd truly forgive him, even in light of what he was trying to accomplish.
Vexen had hurt him too, after all; had been downright nasty to him on occasion the older they got. From the one who had been depending on him to protect him… Who was to say Vexen’s atonement would be so easily accepted?
The stress was never-ending.
Vexen exhaled long and loud, rubbing his fingers into tired eyes. That was quite enough of that. There were more important matters to attend to.
She was bound to wake soon, too.
Vexen forced himself to rise and readied himself for the day ahead. In the lab waited the latest and final vessel for the Organization; the one of many victims Vexen had truly come back for.
We finally meet again, Xion…
The examination table held the girl's replica body, appearing so much smaller than he’d remembered, not helped by the tubes and wires surrounding her. The familiar lifelessness managed to summon a small taste of nostalgia for the dawn of his replica research. There was an odd sense of humor to what was once his most powerful creation currently drowning in a sea of fabric that was her own coat.
And her face. Vexen had never seen anything more than a blank slate. An untimely death robbed him of the chance to witness anything develop. But now…
…Why was he nervous? Or maybe it was anticipation that had him tiptoe-ing slowly to Xion's position. Millions of possibilities began running through Vexen's brain. Had she taken the features of her original model, Sora? Of Roxas? Had she taken on something unique of her own? Or pulled bits and pieces from those she had seen in life to create something entirely new?
All were possible. And Vexen held his breath for what he might see when he leaned over the still sleeping body.
Nothing.
No face appeared to Vexen. Only the same, blank replica surface stared back at him.
Xion did not breathe, or twitch, or show any other indication that she now inhabited the vessel. Pale as a ghost, she still lay frighteningly dormant.
The heart transfer should have completed by now. Had Vexen’s worries been that substantial? Had he made a mistake somewhere?
Putting a hand on his chin, Vexen mentally retraced his steps of last night's process. He read and reread the slew of notes he'd written along the way. Conducting further tests showed that the heart transfer had, indeed, worked.
So, why hadn't her face shown?
With nothing more he could do, Vexen begrudgingly prepared to head to the high chamber. He took a final look at the child he'd been so excited to meet. Xion had nothing to offer him in terms of answers, and perhaps wouldn't until she woke up – if she did at all.
And so the stress continues to pile, Vexen bitterly thought.
At this point, if he wasn't killed by the discovery of his treason, a popped blood vessel was sure to do it.
~~~~~~
As expected, Xemnas was not pleased with the delay. It was Saïx's, and by a certain extent, Vexen's idea to include Xion in their ranks in the first place, under the guise of her being a powerful asset. Vexen was certain that the only reason Master Xehanort had agreed to accept this otherwise unknown individual was because the request had come from Xemnas’ mouth. This was not a very good look for the Superior.
Saïx's own concern was evident too. And the longer Xion slept her unexplainable slumber, the longer it'd take to begin work on Roxas’ vessel.
Vexen's days were filled with vehemently assuring both superior and cohort that everything was under control, that they were soon to receive positive news as opposed to anything detrimental. Even the remainder of the Organization had become aware of their final vessel's lack of progress – as evident by pesky prying.
"What's wrong with it?" the Riku replica had asked one day, lollygagging about the lab as if he had nothing better to do.
"She is simply getting the rest she still needs. She will wake to us in her own time." Vexen tried to believe the words as confidently as he had spoken them. “Do you not have an assignment to complete?” He waved a hand at the wayward apprentice. “Go on, shoo.”
At his prompting, the Riku replica huffily made his way out. Vexen blew out an exasperated huff of his own, steeling himself to turn back to the examination table and continue his prodding.
When he did, it was to find Xion sitting upright, watching him with a smooth, featureless face.
~~~~~~
Xehanort must've lost his mind.
First, those experiments. Then the human testing. Now came the inane idea of stripping themselves of their own hearts; to sacrifice their lives for an hypothetical theory based on limited study.
Even should have seen this coming the moment Xehanort began plucking subjects off of Radiant Garden's streets. When he had convinced them all to get rid of Ansem the Wise once he discovered the depth of their research. Why? Why hadn't he seen it?
Even already knew the answer to that. Guilt and shame refused to let him contend with it just yet.
There was a greater priority at hand; protecting Ienzo from the chaos that befell their world.
Courtesy of Xehanort, the monstrous products of their experiments were on the loose, rampaging through the kingdom and taking any victims they could get their claws into. Gathering Ienzo, Even tucked themselves away under a staircase storeroom, mind desperately searching for the next best course of action. Dilian and Aeleus had said they would return for them after securing the perimeter. Foolish. As if Even could stop them. He didn't know where the hell Braig was. He'd worry about him later.
Their home as they knew it was succumbing. The castle would follow closely after. Even didn't intend to fall along with it.
The body he held close to his own trembled, spurring Even back to the present of their hiding place. Right. He ought to say something.
“We'll be alright.”
The dark of the room barely allowed for him to make out the watery eye that fished out his own. Full of fear, and understandably so.
They couldn't stay here. Not if they wanted to survive whatever was coming. Time to move.
Aeleus… Dilian… Forgive me.
Even took hold of the little fingers clinging to his coat. “Do not let go of my hand, alright?”
Ienzo stiffly nodded behind the brave face he had put on. Even's heart ached at the sight. He knew he was not the only one wrestling with guilt for this outcome. He probably should have said more to encourage the child, to reassure him that this was not their fault– not his, at least.
Even didn't. Only dragged them from their hiding spot and left the unspoken behind them.
They would be alright. They just needed to wait out this nightmare.
The lab was their best bet. If they could seal themselves inside, they'd be safe for the time being. They could wait out the storm Xehanort had brought upon Radiant Garden. And with Ienzo's safety secured, Even could efficiently brainstorm their proper escape.
What little remaining staff that had stayed after Ansem the Wise's disappearance had already feld. Even pitied their ignorance, the outcome they'd face in their poor judgment likely not a pretty one. But that only meant more ease for them when traversing the deserted halls.
Reaching the lab, Even ushered Ienzo inside and hurried to seal the door behind them, implementing the security locks he had hoped to never use, but was oh so grateful for in the moment. The sound of the latches going into place had his shoulders slumping in immediate relief.
Safe.
A tiny gasp spun his attention back to Ienzo. That relief plummeted. They weren't alone.
“I was just coming to get you.”
A great shiver froze Even, as if Xehanort's words were an icy wind blowing through his coat. The young man stood calm as ever, no different than another day of their regular duties. A weapon Even had never seen before filled his hand, large, and curved at the end with sharp, metal teeth. Blood dripped from those teeth; as did it stain Xehanort's usually pristine coat and dot across his lax face. Horror of the sight hardly had the time to grip Even, sense catching up to him before he was rushing to pull Ienzo close.
A step was taken towards them. Even doubled back with four.
“X-Xehanort,” Even tried as calmly as he could manage. “You are not thinking rationally. You must know that this is madness.”
All things he's said before. Things that he knew deep down would not make an ounce of difference for what was coming.
“Perhaps,” Xehanort acknowledged, taking a moment to look over his blood-streaked weapon. Even adamantly refused to think on whose blood it might be. “But we scientists know there is no limit to discovery. Only by going beyond where weak-willed fools fear to go, will we reach them.”
“By way of death?! What is there to discover then?”
“You will die, but if you truly possess strong hearts, your souls will persist. You will find purpose in death. I shall grant you that purpose.”
Even held so tightly to Ienzo, he was sure the boy was bruising. Still he held on, scooping him from the ground with zero protest, as if they could manage to be any closer – as if that could somehow ensure Ienzo’s safety. Backed to the wall, there was nowhere to turn. There was nowhere to run or hide or to even entertain the possibility. Spewed nonsense ignored, Even made one final attempt to draw whatever mercy may still be within the crazed apprentice. Even begged for it.
“Take me if you must! But the boy– he's just a child!”
Xehanort's eyes fell to Ienzo who clung just as tightly around Even's neck. The boy's breath remained a constant wavering of in and out, loud and hot in his chilled ear.
“A child, yes, but extremely invaluable.” That breath froze with a sucking hitch. “I will need you both.”
No, Not like this…!
The time for words was over. Xehanort's bloodied weapon pointed forward.
He lunged.
And struck.
His eyes were wet.
Vexen blinked to wakefulness, the moisture dotting his eyelashes blurring his vision. He had fallen asleep at his work table again. And again, he had been plagued by that nightmarish memory.
That made the third time this week. Throngs of guilt and sorrow already distributed its fair share of distress; what a shame that it had to follow him into the dreaming world as well. Could he truly know no rest?
Vexen rose his heavy head from the warmed marble. He turned in his chair– and almost toppled from it with a near heart attack.
"Heavens, child!”
Vexen gripped at his chest, Xion giving no reaction where she stood crowded in his personal space.
“You mustn't keep doing that,” Vexen managed after regaining his breath.
Covered by her hood, Xion's empty face remained on him, soundless, and admittedly, unnerving. Three days she'd been awake, and all she seemed able to do was hover aimlessly – usually near him – and observe with unseeing eyes. Not like Vexen could blame her for the odd behavior; any memory of Xion's previous life appeared to have not returned with her. Static alone filled those precious slots that originally made up who she was, and just like before, further tests could not tell Vexen why.
The only hypothesis he could conclude was that whatever Xion had experienced before, that however she had met her end… was simply too much to bear. Despite its significance – despite all of the good that must've been there, too – the heart just refused to remember sometimes. A powerful security measure, just as much as it was tragic circumstance.
Xion tilted her head, continuing to silently watch. Suddenly remembering the wetness on his cheeks, Vexen hurriedly wiped his eyes. Had she somehow sensed his sorrow? Was that why she had been standing over him? Hopefully his embarrassment wasn't quite as perceptible.
Slowly, Xion raised a gloved hand to where her eyes would be, touch lingering as if grappling to understand the tears displayed before her. Perhaps she had forgotten what that was like, too. What a novelty that must be.
The thought soured Vexen's stomach the moment it occurred, brief envy forcibly shaken away. And there was that guilt again.
Can I truly know no rest?
Until he right these wrongs, he supposed the answer to that was clear.
~~~~~~
It was strange how fast things managed to change overnight based on one factor alone. And for once, for the better.
The increased hopelessness Vexen had grown accustomed to in the last week steadily receded with Xion’s company. The girl proved to be very curious. Not all too surprising considering she had no reference of life to work with. An unexpected air of innocence surrounded her, and the monitoring of her development taking Vexen's intrigue was a nice change of pace from focusing on mind-altering machines. Xion was effectively exploring the world anew– as much that could be experienced when confined to four white walls.
Vexen glanced from the work on his desk, smiling as he saw the girl intently staring at something that had caught her attention high in the shelves across the room. Physical features had finally shown, much to his relief. Xion held a youthful appearance of rounded cheeks, large eyes, and a head of choppy black hair that barely reached her ears; A girl, not the blank puppet he had created, then tossed to the wolves without a care. Maybe a little extra time was all she needed to find herself. Of what was uniquely hers, and hers alone. An ordeal, no doubt, with the meddling of Master Xehanort's infestation.
Speaking of, that begged the question of the anomaly that was the girl's eyes.
They appeared a deep, vibrant blue rather than the gold that marked their claim. None of the other replicas had lacked that trait at their awakenings. Strange.
It was worth keeping an eye on, the gears in Vexen's brain turning as he tried to connect the phenomenon's meaning. Perhaps time would see them changing. Perhaps Xion's heart was much more resilient than they had previously suspected.
And with a strong heart, no memory was lost for good.
Rising from his desk, Vexen approached Xion, following her line of sight. A glass holding wooden tongue depressors sat high above their heads. Vexen plucked one of the flat sticks from the bunch and lowered it into Xion's reach. She grasped ahold of it, hard stare continuing as if trying to find secrets hidden within its grain. Something about the demeanor brought on an aching familiarity.
When Ienzo had first come to them, Even had been apprehensive about having a child around. He'd never been particularly fond of children. And yet, for some odd reason, it was Even who Ienzo had decided to stick by more often than anyone. Vexen couldn't pretend that his position as head scientist had nothing to do with it, naturally drawing the attention of a highly intellectual child. Just like he couldn't deny how the addition of a pupil – of having big, eager eyes looking to him with such admiration – slowly melted his heart to the company.
Xion reminded him of Ienzo in so many ways. So small. So quiet.
…That sparked an idea.
~~~~~~
“Here you are.”
Vexen presented a spare pocketbook he'd found collecting dust in an abandoned drawer. Xion took it into her hands and blinked round expectant eyes back at him.
“Um, should you wish to tell me anything that you cannot communicate, write it down in here.”
Shortly realizing he had given her nothing to write with, Vexen patted down his coat and hastily presented a pen as well. It took a moment of fiddling before Xion properly fit it into her grasp. Lowering to the floor, she spread the book wide in front of her, clearly already having something in mind. Vexen, too, crouched down to watch her put pen to paper, Xion forming unsteady lines. What came out was a copy of the Nobody symbol– or something close enough to it.
“That's right,” Vexen nodded. “The Organization. That is where we are.”
Xion scratched out the symbol with a wobbly ‘X’. Again, she began another crude scribble, this time of someone distinctly familiar. Vexen held in the urge to giggle at the representation.
“Saïx. He is here, too. H-He wishes to make amends with you, you know.” Vexen clumsily added on that last part, searching for any kind of reaction Xion might give.
There was none. She again marked the drawing with an ‘X’.
Paying no attention to him, Xion continued creating more rudimentary doodles to be placed behind more messy scratches. Vexen left her to her devices.
~~~~~~
“Xion is improving more and more each day.”
A long beat passed. “That's… wonderful to hear.”
“...You know, it may be in her best interest that you get acquainted sooner rather than–”
Saïx refused him before the suggestion even finished. “I have mission reports to see to. Perhaps another time.”
Vexen could only shake his head as his colleague hurried down the corridor. Saïx's trepidation… Vexen understood all too well to blame him.
~~~~~~
Xion was communicating more and more. Speaking now. Her vocabulary could use some refining, but anything was an improvement.
Vexen, however, never expected her long awaited first words to strike him with such dread.
“Roxas. Axel.”
She had asked for them. And Vexen had no idea how to answer her. How awful of him to be relieved when she had forgotten the request not a minute later, sparing him the trouble. Her memory was still not the greatest, but with time, that too would improve.
What had Xion's first word been back then? Perhaps silly in the moment, but something ached within Vexen at the realization that he did not know.
“Ienzo.”
The name filled the quiet of the lab, spoken soft as a whisper. Vexen looked up from his work table as he registered what he'd just heard. Xion stood behind him, a piece of loose paper in hand, and that ever present air of curiosity as she spoke again.
“You… dream,” Xion carefully worded, her sentences sparse and clumsy. “And speak.” Her head tilted just a hair, questioning. “Ienzo...?”
“...My child.” Vexen saw no reason for the lump that gathered in his throat, nor the threat of tears tickling his eyes, but there they were. “I do dream of him. We had not been on the best of terms when–”
They'd been killed. Specifically the second time. Caught in a tangle of too many wicked schemes and betrayed by their own egocentric devices, they both met gruesome ends much too soon.
Xion's face scrunched in a second of thought. “You… wish to… make amends… with him?”
The choked sensation intensified.
“Yes. Very much so.”
The girl nodded, slow and understanding. The torn page crinkled in her hand, her eyes lowering to it for a long moment before silently turning away.
What she'd been consulting, Vexen didn't know. But left in her retreat was the last thing Vexen had expected, wrestling to get his emotions under control as he contended on why that was.
Hope.
Xion understood his motivation. Even in her limited knowledge of the situation and the complications surrounding it, she understood. And that was enough to fill Vexen with immense hope.
Vexen allowed a smile to grace his face, as well as the tear that'd been welling in his eye.
It was now that their plan officially began. It wouldn't be long until Xion was ready to be inserted into the Organization, marking the beginning of the end. What happened between then was anyone's guess. They could be discovered and pay the price for their deception dearly. Or they could pull everything off without a hitch. Vexen chose to believe in the latter.
Live or die, he'd be at peace with the atonement he at least sought.