Work Text:
It goes like this: Lea and Isa, best friends since childhood, together through it all, together until they weren’t, ripped apart at the seams in a sick parody of an open heart surgery and sewn back together empty inside. Renamed, rebirth. The sun and the moon, knocked out of alignment. The sun’s on a one-way trip to supernova. The moon’s found himself a new planet to orbit around; the Superior and his adjutant, spinning out of Axel’s reach.
Axel burns. Axel goes out with the intensity of a fallen star, burning and brilliant, blindingly bright.
Saïx laughs so he doesn’t cry. He can’t cry; his tear ducts have long-since dried up: Isa sobs within his not-heart, beating on his rib cage with the force of a decade’s worth of unseen, unheard emotions. Out of sight, out of mind.
Saïx fades, too, struck down at the hands of the Keyblade’s chosen one (wearing his face, his memories). His last conscious thought, as Isa takes the reins back, is where is my heart?
Axel, now Lea again, awakens again with the rest of the Organization. Isa’s absence casts a rather dim light on what should be a joyous occasion; there is no moon to reflect the sun’s light.
(Braig is missing, too, but Lea feels—Lea feels— quite ambivalent about that.)
Far away, glowing with that same sickly yellow luminescence from before, Saïx wakes up. This time, there’s no panicked sense of wrongness. He hadn’t had enough time to reacclimate to being Isa (to having a heart that was fully his own) to feel any particular way about his situation.
That isn’t quite true. With a muted gladness, Saïx is pleased Axel is not amongst the True Organization’s number.
The sun and the moon meet again, clashing, on opposite sides. A partial eclipse.
Lea has a Keyblade now, a barely-controlled conflagration in the vaguest shape of a sword. The heat of it sears Saïx’s skin as he blocks the weapon with his Claymore. The hood of his black coat slips off; the sun’s radiance extinguishes the second Isa’s eyes meet his.
“Isa!”
That’s not my name anymore. There’s no time for talking, and besides, there’s nothing Saïx wants to say.
They might as well be strangers.
You abandoned me.
The sun and the moon don’t pass each other by until Saïx finds Lea at that damnable clock tower the evening before the final struggle between darkness and light. The sight of that familiar pale blue ice cream in Lea’s grasp has Saïx stepping out from the shadows, a final moment of weakness before the moon inevitably implodes.
He has no plans to survive the fight.
They trade barbs where once they would have bantered, but Saïx gleans a small amount of pleasure from the fact that Lea is far less accomplished at masking his feelings than Axel had been—the sun deigns to shine on him once more, the depths of poorly-hidden feelings lurking deep within those expressive emerald eyes.
They part, and Saïx feels content at the thought of his upcoming demise.
Lea arrives at the Keyblade Graveyard with something approaching dread curdling his stomach; unaddressed grief creeps up his throat, coiling around his tongue, keeping him silent. The few attempts he makes to lighten the mood are met with stern scorn, and the sun subdues his light accordingly.
Far across the ravaged land, Saïx is almost serene. With his status as a double agent still hidden, he has no doubt that the plan he’d concocted with Vexen will come to fruition. Roxas and Xion will be reunited with Lea, and Saïx will fall out of his orbit, crumbling to dust.
It’s better this way.
He dies in Lea’s arms with a smile on his face. It’s more than he’d ever allowed himself to hope for.
Part of Lea dies with him.
—
Months have passed since the showdown at the Keyblade Graveyard, and Lea and his teenage charges are learning to cohabitate. The air is cold and dry, a perfect parallel to how Lea’s been feeling lately. He was overjoyed when Roxas and Xion had returned, inhabiting replica bodies he now knows Isa and Even (and, surprisingly, Demyx) were to thank for. He’s still pleased as punch that they’d elected to live in Radiant Garden with him, had chosen him over Terra and Aqua—pettiness is in his nature.
Lately, the teenagers have been longing for the golden warmth of Twilight Town, but Lea’s put his foot down: no, not yet, not until Isa returns.
He’s ruined yet another dinner with his insistence. Roxas won’t meet his gaze, Xion looks disappointed.
“Lea...” She begins, but he cuts her off, already all too aware of what she’s going to say.
“He’s goin’ to come back. Maybe his Heartless is still out there; he could be still recoverin’ from damage, and—”
“Stop kidding yourself!” Roxas explodes out of his seat, glaring daggers at Lea. “Lea, look, it’s been six months since we took out Saïx, and there hasn’t been any sign of him. You message Ienzo every day, even though you know he’d tell you right away if Isa had shown up in the Castle. You fight with me and Xion all the time; you just got fired from your job at the Bistro...when was the last time you washed your hair?” The fight bleeds from him as quickly as it’d ignited; Roxas scrubs a hand over his face and sighs shakily.
Before Lea can fire back a devastating retort, Xion’s reaching over and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We love you, Lea,” she tells him, sincere and sweet. “Roxas isn’t saying any of this to hurt you. It’s just...why are so adamant on staying here, when it hurts you so much?”
Lea gets up from the table and storms into his bedroom without saying a word, slamming the door for good measure. The well-worn punching bag that hangs in the middle of his room is about to see some more action; it’s singed in several places and there are a few small bloodstains. Lea retrieves his knuckle wraps and dons them, then does a few warm-up stretches to spend some of that excess, angry energy.
Limbered up and still just as furious, he launches himself at the punching bag and lands a series of hits in quick succession. Lea’s so lost in the moment, in the physical sensations and welcomed emotional numbness, that he doesn’t hear a sheet of paper with something taped to it sliding under the bottom of his door.
An hour later, he’s battered and bruised, sore and exhausted. As he’s gingerly changing out of his sweaty clothes and into a fuzzy pajama set, the whiteness of the paper catches Lea’s eye.
It’s an apology note from Xion (technically it’s from both of them, but it’s all Xion’s handwriting), complete with a wrapped bar of sea salt ice cream—Roxas’ true addition, surely. He’d enchanted it to stay cold until Lea had noticed it.
Lea cries himself to sleep.
—
He finds himself in an ancient forest seemingly untouched by human hands. The coniferous trees tower overhead, dark and foreboding, and a cool, dense fog is creeping through the woods. The sky is an ominous gun-metal gray.
Lea shivers and presses on. Around him, everything is deathly still and silent. There are no other signs of life.
He keeps walking; something in his gut tells him to push forward and continue searching.
Searching for what? Lea doesn’t receive an answer.
Eventually, he comes across the mouth of a large cave. Eerie lights flicker just inside, leaving ghostly trails to illuminate the twisting path he finds himself traversing without a second thought. The cavern itself is quite large, but Lea doesn’t stray from the wisps and the footway they lead him down.
After bringing him to a vast chamber, the phantom lights disappear, leaving Lea to wander through the space alone. Bizarrely, there are trees and a river bisecting the room; he scratches his head and tries to understand how that could even be possible.
He doesn’t ruminate on it for long—the sole source of light is person-shaped and has long, silky blue hair.
Isa.
Lea breaks into a run; he’s never moved this fast before in his life, not even when he was fighting alongside the other Guardians of Light to maintain balance and stop Xehanort and his True Organization.
“Isa!” He calls breathlessly, doubling over as a particularly sharp cramp forces him to stop and gasp for air. The figure turns around and Lea falls to his knees.
“Still running after stray puppies, are we?”
For a moment, it’s as though nothing has changed; they’re just two boys standing together against the world, against all the bullies in Radiant Garden who hated Isa for his stimming and his meltdowns and Lea for his weird interests and his mile-a-minute mouth. Then the weight of all the years they’ve lost comes crashing back down upon them.
“Where have you been?” Is what bursts out of Lea’s mouth, but Isa hears what he doesn’t say: why haven’t you come back to me?
“Hello to you, too,” he responds dryly, but his tone isn’t unkind; Lea has always been fluent in the idiosyncrasies of Isa. “I couldn’t tell you even if I knew—I’ve been expressly forbidden from doing so.”
“By who?” Lea demands incredulously, brows drawing together as he stares at his best friend. Isa is truly a sight for the sorest of eyes.
“What part of ‘forbidden from doing so’ is confusing to you?” Despite his apparent frustration, Isa looks over his shoulder, as if confirming that they’re alone. “It was Ha—“
A shadowy hand slaps itself across Isa’s mouth, muffling any sound he tries to make, only dissipating when he falls silent. He tries again, but the same thing happens. Lea watches with eyes as wide as saucers, but as soon as he jumps up, Keyblade summoned to his hand and ready to render whatever assistance Isa may require, his best friend waves him off.
“Lea, don’t.” He sounds defeated. Resigned. “This is it for me.”
“Like the seven hells it is!” Lea snaps, tongues of flames sparking to life and licking up his arms. Isa gives a soft little laugh at the display.
“Think of me in the summertime, when butterflies return from their southern migration.”
“Butterflies? Isa, what—”
“Don’t you remember?” Isa’s smile is a joyless twist of his lips; it serves only to highlight his melancholy. “Butterflies carried the souls of the dead to the heavens when the Forgotten Gods began to consume them, hoping to satiate their yearning for a past that had ceased to exist.”
Knife-cold fear sharply twists Lea’s heart and he almost chokes as anguished desperation floods his throat. “No, Isa,” he gasps, reaching for his oldest, dearest friend.
Lea’s hand passes through Isa’s arm with no resistance to slow it. Isa laughs with little mirth. His face is contorted with a hundred different emotions, love, sorrow, and uncertainty the most prominent amongst them all.
“Let’s meet again in the next life.” A single tear pools over and mars Isa’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you in the Meadows of Revelry.”
“Isa!” Lea gasps, rushing forward to embrace him, to bring him back home. Isa drops through a crevice in the rocky ground that hadn’t been under his feet a moment prior, and his body is claimed by the dark, deep water below, seeking him for its own. No air bubbles flow from his mouth as he sinks; his doleful green eyes are the last thing Lea sees before he awakens with a scream that rips itself from his throat, leaving it raw and slick with bile.
—
“So let me get this straight,” Roxas says skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think you had some sort of magical dream?”
Lea thinks, after he was such an asshole last night, that Roxas and Xion are entitled to a bit of skepticism and uncertainty. He’d cooked them an apologetic breakfast and slipped his own letters of regret underneath their bedroom doors, with bars of sea salt ice cream to boot.
They’d appreciated it, but the teenagers had appreciated the warm bear hug he’d enveloped them in more. All was forgiven.
Xion, however, doesn’t wear the same expression of doubt. “I don’t know, Roxas,” she says slowly. “Lea seems pretty sure this dream is different from his others, somehow.”
Lea nods emphatically. “I can feel it in my gut.”
Roxas raises a brow. “Not your heart?”
“Well...” Lea has the decency to look sheepish. “Let’s just say I don’t feel totally in tune with it yet.”
Xion nods sympathetically. “It must be even harder to readjust to being a Somebody without Isa, huh?”
Every day, Lea marvels over Roxas and Xion’s grace and forgiveness, though he supposes it’s easier to absolve someone when they’re a thing of the past and becoming even more unlikely to ever return.
His eyes feel wet.
“Hey, it’s okay. Cry if you need to.” Roxas rubs the back of his neck as he speaks, still visibly unsure of what to say. Comforting other people has never been his forte.
“‘m not cryin’,” Lea insists, rubbing at his eyes none-too-discretely. “Just...thinking about what Xion said.”
She cants her head. “I meant it. I think you should talk to Yen Sid if you’re serious about your dream and what it could mean, Lea.”
“Yeah, I’m inclined to agree. At the very least, it might give you some peace of mind.” Roxas nods to emphasize his point.
Lea mulls it over. What’s the worst thing that could happen, that he wastes a bit of the old wizard’s time? Aside from the time he’d saved their asses in the Keyblade Graveyard, Yen Sid never seemed to leave his tower.
“You’re right. Both of you.” Lea exhales deeply, nerves alight with anticipation and the smoldering embers of a hope that’d never died. “You think he has a Gummiphone?”
Resounding laughter from the teenagers answers his question.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Lea groans, playing along with the sudden (and welcomed) shift in mood. “So...either of you willing to give me a ride to the Mysterious Tower? I haven’t really mastered the whole Keyblade Glider thing yet.”
Roxas and Xion share a fond, exasperated look.
“Yeah, we’ll bring you.”
—
The piercing look Lea finds himself on the end of makes anxiety prickle at his skin. He’d haltingly explained his dream after Yen Sid had asked his teenage wards to wait downstairs. The silence settles around him like a weighted blanket.
After what feels like an eternity, the old wizard breaks the quietude. “The others would say your dream was simply wistful thinking brought to life by your unconscious mind,” Yen Sid says. His words are measured.
Lea’s shoulders slump. “But I—”
“However,” Yen Sid holds up his hand, and Lea stops talking. “I trust your hunch. You do not seem overly prone to flights of fancy, young Lea, and seeing as you have come all this way, despite vast amounts of fear and faith in equal quantities...it appears rather likely that there is truth to your hunch.”
Lea’s eyes light up like fireworks. “You mean it?!”
The old wizard inclines his head. “I do not speak only to hear myself talk.”
Chagrined, Lea flushes red. “Wasn’t tryin’ to imply that…”
If Yen Sid takes offense, it doesn’t show on his craggy, placid countenance. “Something—or perhaps someone—must be holding Isa’s soul captive. It begs the question of why.”
Lea’s hands ball into fists. “I dunno. I mean, Xehanort’s gone. The Organization’s disbanded. Who else could be meddling, Pete and Maleficent?”
“I find it highly doubtful.”
“Well, I got nothin’, then.” Without a lead, what can Lea realistically do? He must look as crestfallen as he feels, because Yen Sid places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Do not give into despair. May your heart be your guiding key.”
Despite himself, Lea snorts derisively. “And what good has that ever done me?”
“I know it must be difficult indeed to trust what was thought to be missing for more than ten years’ time, but you must learn to believe in yourself in order to move forward. If you truly desire to find Isa, you have no other choice.”
Lea departs the Tower feeling more doubtful than he had going in. Roxas and Xion wisely remain silent.
—
Lea: i just don’t get it u know? how can my heart be my guiding key if it led me to joinin the organization in the first place? doesn’t make sense
Aqua: Master Yen Sid is very wise, Lea. He wouldn’t steer you wrong.
Lea: first time for everything
Aqua: Have you tried guided meditation? I think that would help you out quite a bit.
Terra: ya lea aqua knqos what shes rlaking aboht you should trist her
Lea: buddy are u drunk?
Terra: nope its just atiny screen and i have bug thumbs
Aqua: Thank you for the vote of confidence, Terra. :)
Lea: if u two are gonna flirt then get a room
Ven: now you know how i feel. :P but seriously lea, there are apps in the gummistore that would help if you don’t feel comfortable meditating around other people.
Aqua: We aren’t flirting!
Terra: were nor??? :/
Even though he’s a frustrating blend of depressed and optimistic, Lea laughs until his sides ache. He exits out of his group chat with the Wayfinders and considers what they’d said. The advice Aqua and Ven had given him...Lea doesn’t know how much stock he puts into things like meditation (his mind is never quiet), but he’s willing to give it a try.
He’ll do damn near anything if it’ll help him bring Isa home.
—
“Close your eyes. Picture a sieve, draining all of your thoughts until your mind is pristine and empty,” a female commentator drones, and honestly, Lea does his utmost to follow her instructions, but he’s not wired for that; his brain is constantly churning out thoughts and fixating on them faster than one could say “stop.” With an irritated snarl, he closes out of the app. Tears of shame prickle at his eyes, so hot they burn, and he has no choice but to let them fall and stain his cheeks.
Crybaby, says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Isa’s. Lea laughs wetly.
“Always have been,” he says to himself. It’s been a hard day; he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a breakdown.
Lea doesn’t get to wallow in self-pity for more than twenty scant minutes before Roxas and Xion ask him to come to the clock tower. He accepts the invitation, because at his age, he thinks it’s a little embarrassing to be fetishizing his own sadness.
—
“Have I ever told you—”
“Why the sun sets red? Gee, I dunno, Lea, only about a hundred times,” Roxas jeers, but it’s clear he’s only teasing.
“Shut up, man, that totally wasn’t what I was gonna say!” It’s a little hard to be heard over the sound of Xion’s laughter, and Lea doesn’t understand why she’s giggling so much—that is, until he spies the Gummiphone held in her hand.
“Talking to Naminé again?” Roxas asks slyly, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Shut up,” Xion responds cheerfully, shielding her Gummiphone from view.
Lea barks out a laugh of his own. A smirk makes itself at home on his face, curving his lips until it nearly hurts. “Does someone have a crush?” Roxas makes obnoxious kissy noises at Xion until she threatens to push them both off the clock tower.
Once the good-natured ribbing dies down, Lea finishes his initial thought.
“Did I ever tell you that I first started this whole ice cream friendship ritual with Isa?”
That gets Xion’s attention; she stows her Gummiphone in her pocket, eyes trained on Lea. Roxas acts more casual about it, but Lea can tell he’s piqued his interest.
“Yeah, Scrooge McDuck first started sellin’ it back in Radiant Garden. I think Isa and I might’ve been some of his first customers. Anyway, we had our own secret spot like you guys share with Hayner, Pence, and Olette, and every day after school, we’d get ice cream and hang out until it was almost past our curfew...or until Isa wanted to get started on homework.” Lea sticks his tongue out and makes an exaggeratedly displeased face. “We didn’t always have the money for it—neither of our families had much money—but sometimes Scrooge would give us some odd jobs to do and pay us in ice cream.”
“That’s so sweet…” Xion looks almost starry-eyed at the thought, hanging onto Lea’s every word.
“And salty,” Roxas says with a grin, proud of himself for his punnery.
“Har, har. Anyway...I miss those days. I think if Saïx—” The name leaves an acrid taste in his mouth. “—had been more like Isa was back then...you probably would’ve gotten along with him. But...I guess we’ll never know.”
“Don’t give up hope,” Xion tells him fiercely, shaking her head. “I was never meant to exist, right?” At Roxas’ fervent disagreement, she holds a finger to her lips: his grumbles die down in a matter of seconds. “But I do. You all remembered me, and I’m here now, defying fate. Who’s to say Isa can’t do the same?”
“The guy was a jerk, but...Xion has a point. We made it back because of him. Maybe we were too hasty in writing him off.” That’s the closest Roxas is going to come to saying he was wrong for pushing Lea to move on, and Lea, having long-since forgiven him, accepts it with a determined nod.
“You’re right. I can still save him!” His heart is an unwavering flame in his chest. “May my heart be my guiding key.” Upon the utterance of those words, a strange and unfamiliar feeling overtakes him. Lea stands up so quickly he nearly falls back down, and as they see the look in his eyes, Roxas and Xion are quick to join him.
“Ready for a ride?” He’s never been so sure of anything in his life as he is about this. “Because I think I can guide us to Isa.”
“We’re glad to come with you, but I think maybe we should borrow the Castle’s Gummiship—it’ll be quicker and we’ll have more protection from deep space Heartless. But I love your enthusiasm.” Xion, ever the logical one.
“Right. Back to Radiant Garden, then!” With a quick Form Change, Roxas and Xion have donned their armor and are floating on their Gliders. They’ve managed to merge them, connecting the two motorcycle-esque aerodynes with a sidecar.
“Buckle up,” Roxas adds, suppressing a cackle at Lea’s irritation.
“Neither of you even have your license,” Lea grouses as he summons his Keyblade armor. Neither of the teens rise to take the bait, and with that, they’re off, soaring through the skies and into space until Twilight Town is just a distant orange speck behind them.
—
“Hi, Even!” The scientist jumps and drops whatever he’d been holding; the beaker smashes into pieces upon hitting the linoleum flooring below their feet and he looks for a moment as though he might yell at Xion for disturbing his peace.
As Vexen, he would have. The man he is now, however, simply exhales a rueful sigh. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done about that. Salutations, Roxas, Xion.” After a slight pause, he adds “Lea.”
“Hey, Even.” Roxas returns his greeting with an easy smile. Lea merely waves. He apologized to Aeleus, Ienzo, and Even not long after Xehanort had been vanquished for good, but he’s aware Even is still mildly uncomfortable around him.
Sometimes Lea can still taste ashes in his mouth when he’s visiting the Castle, can still smell the horrible scent of melting flesh—
He snaps to attention; Roxas and Xion have been filling Even in on the situation at hand for a few minutes. Lea blinks quickly, clearing phantom smoke from his eyes.
“—think we could borrow the Gummiship?”
Even gives a put-upon groan, but Lea can tell he enjoys being addressed as someone in charge. “Hmm...seeing as you seem to be in a truly desperate circumstance, I dare say it would be rather cruel to deprive you of it.” He hands them a clipboard that had been hanging on the wall. “Sign it out on this paper. It’s magically linked to every other sheet with the same purpose in the Castle; it’s how we ensure piloting schedules don’t conflict.”
“That’s fascinating!” Xion exclaims, using her most careful and clean penmanship. Even’s neutral countenance morphs into something almost fatherly.
Huh. Lea absently takes note of that.
“Bring it back in one piece, or Chip and Dale will have your heads,” Even warns them, waving the group out of his laboratory. “Good luck with your mission.”
They’re almost out the door when Even says “I sincerely hope you track down Isa, that miscreant.”
Lea decides Even isn’t so bad after all.
—
“We’ve been flying around for hours, Lea; are you sure you know where we’re going?” Roxas is slouched over in his seat; Xion has her eyes glued to her Gummiphone, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Lea…isn’t sure, not fully, and the dispirited look on his face says as much.
“Look...when I was in Sora’s heart, he was struggling with something similar.”
“And? How did he figure it out?”
Roxas scratches his head. “It’s hard to recall; I wasn’t privy to every conversation he had. He followed the same advice Yen Sid gave you. May your heart be your guiding key.”
What did that even mean, really? Key…
Wait. What if it wasn’t key, but Key? On a whim, Lea calls Flame Liberator to his hand. A glowing light emanates from the tip of the blade, and he thrusts it forward. A beam of pure luminosity shoots out from his Keyblade and across the cosmos. A brightness so intense that it washes out everything around them springs to life, and the Gummiship’s inhabitants are forced to shield their eyes or risk losing their sight.
When it dies down, Lea’s amazed to see a pulsating wormhole a short distance away. He’d managed to tear open a Gate, rending time and space with the strength of his desire to save Isa. If he were alone, he might cry.
“Holy shit!” Xion’s just as stunned as he is, mouth fallen agape. “How did you do that?!”
“I let my heart be my guiding key, I guess.”
“Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Roxas’ eyes shine with resoluteness. “We’re with you, Lea.”
Lea offers up a silent prayer for protection to the Gods his mother had worshiped before piloting into the abyss.
—
“I’ve been here before,” Roxas says, eyes narrowed as he takes in their surroundings. Xion looks conflicted beside him.
“It seems so familiar, but...I don’t think I’ve set foot here before. Not as myself, at least.”
“I can safely say I don’t recognize any of this,” Lea mutters. The architecture is wholly unfamiliar; there are so many rows of white columns and arches that it’s making his head spin. Carved, golden reliefs line the walls, but he doesn’t have time to inspect them further; a peal of laughter from Xion interrupts his studying.
“What are you wearing, Lea?”
“Whaddaya mean?” He looks down at himself and stares. The plaid button-up and cheetah print jeans he’d been wearing before had been replaced with...a strange sort of dress? A swathe of white fabric covers his body, ending just above his knees and wrapping around his back. A good portion of his chest is exposed, and his heeled boots have been swapped for sandals that tie around his calves.
“Aw, this is the worst,” Roxas groans loudly; he’s wearing something similar to Lea, but he has a brown belt made out of some sort of animal hide around his waist to complete his look.
“You two look ridiculous,” Xion coos, pleased as punch. Her clothes have changed to a pale green dress made from the same fabric; it has a high neckline with a loose (but conservative) bodice, and the long skirts pool around her feet. Out of the three of them, she looks the least comical.
“I guess the ship’s been enchanted with some sort of magic to help us blend in. Protect the World Order and all that.” Regardless of the reasoning, it’s still a discomfiting thing to be surprised with, and Lea can only hope it’s temporary. “Ya think we’ll get our clothes back?”
“I miss my pants,” Roxas says mournfully. Xion smothers her laughter behind her hands.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter. We’re here to find Isa; what we’re wearing isn’t important.” He peers around. They appear to be on the edge of some sort of market district; vendors can be found throughout the square, hawking their goods and forging connections. Ordinarily, Lea would love nothing more than to immerse himself and mingle amongst the World’s residents, but they don’t have that kind of time.
“Can’t we at least stop for something to eat? I’m starving.” Xion rubs her stomach and it gurgles sadly. A smile appears on his lips unbidden when he sees Roxas start mirroring her.
“Alright. We can make a pit stop.”
—
After obtaining and eating lunch (and thank the Gods that whatever magic the Gummiship had been imbued with also applies to speaking and understanding the local language[s]), Lea and his teenage charges discuss their next move.
“So you’re saying you really don’t know anything in regards to this World?” Xion fixes him with a bemused look. “Why would Isa be here, then?”
Before Lea can even think to formulate a response, Roxas is jumping in on his behalf. “Lea said Isa told him he was trapped by something, right? And that he was forbidden to tell anyone.”
“Well, not in so many words, but yeah,” he answers, scratching the back of his neck. “Yen Sid kinda informed me about his soul being stuck somewhere, awaiting my rescue.” He almost blushes as he says it, fully aware of how ridiculously romantic that sounds. Who is he to pretend as though he’s some knight in shining armor? He isn’t anything of the sort and doesn’t deserve to be deluded into believing otherwise.
Lea’s robbed of the chance to fall further into self-loathing by a rather short and robust goat-man.
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the rookie who ain’t a rookie! What’re you doin’ here, kid?” The goat-man looks delighted to see Roxas, who seems thrown for the briefest of moments before something clicks for him.
“Phil, hey! It’s been a while, huh?” The goat-man barks out a laugh and slugs him in the knee.
“Man, you have no idea. Where’ve ya been, anyway?” Roxas is uncertain of how, precisely, he’s meant to answer Phil’s question.
“Ah, it’s a long story. Hey, I want you to meet Lea and Xion, my best friends.” He turns to look at them. “This is Phil. He trained me back—back in the day.” Twin flashes of understanding pass over their faces, and wisely, they don’t add onto the tale further.
“Nice to meet ya!” Lea says, snapping off a jaunty salute. Beside him, Xion’s greeting is much more subdued.
Phil squints at them, wheels turning in his head as he scrutinizes their faces and if he’d ever seen them before. “Right back at ya. You fans of Herc’s, then?”
“Herc?” Xion echoes, brows wrinkling. She shoots Lea a questioning look, but he’s just as lost as she is.
“Can’t say we know who that is,” Lea tells Phil. “We’re here looking for my friend.”
“I’m gonna come back to ya not knowin’ who Herc is, ‘cause that’s seriously a travesty...but who’s your friend? Maybe I’ve seen ‘em around.”
Hope floods Lea’s stomach and entangles itself with his guts, so quickly and fully he almost feels nauseous. “His name’s Isa. He’s a couple inches shorter than me, with long blue hair and a pretty distinct scar in the middle of his forehead.”
Disappointment leaves an acidic, bitter taste in his mouth as Phil shakes his head. “No dice. Sorry, pal, haven’t seen him. But…” The goat-man pauses and appears to consider something. “Ah, to Tartarus with it! I’ll take ya to see Herc. Maybe he’ll know somethin’ about this friend of yours.”
“You’d do that for total strangers?” Xion’s eyes are almost misty.
“C’mon, rookie, don’t look at me like that! It’ll ruin my reputation.” Phil waves her off, but he’s not fooling anyone.
“You’re a good guy, Phil.” The goat-man groans and stamps his hoof.
“Ah, shut up already and follow me, will ya? You’re givin’ me a headache.” The trio laugh amongst themselves, smothering their chuckles behind their hands, but they fall in line behind Phil and follow his lead.
—
“...and that’s how Herc took down the Hydra!” The goat-man— satyr, Lea mentally corrects himself—says, finishing what’d proven to be a lengthy, exciting saga.
“So many heads,” Xion replies, shuddering. Roxas makes a face in agreement.
“Sounds like fire would’ve done the job just as well,” Lea responds cheekily, calling up a sphere of flame to rest in his palm. Phil’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head.
“What—how—I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that!” He shakes himself out of his dazed reverie and trains his incredulous stare on Lea. “No, I’m not—who the hell are ya?”
Shit. He’d forgotten about the World Order. “Uh, nobody special, really.” That, at least, is the truth: Lea is simply a man who’s been particularly fortunate.
They’ve stopped to rest; the roads Phil is leading them across are long and winding, and Lea thinks the break is more for the satyr’s benefit than their own. Phil had said they weren’t much further from the place Hercules now calls home (which is a rather odd way of phrasing that, now that Lea thinks about it), and this conversation is only a fruitless, irritating distraction from his true goal.
Before he can say as much, Xion is jumping in and being a cheerful distraction, becoming a sponge that soaks up all of Phil’s suspicious attention. “So you were the one who trained Hercules to become the hero he is today? You must be famous! Mobbed by adoring fans!”
It works to mollify the satyr for a while; even Roxas begins to chime in with a few “oohs” and “ahhs” when the conversation calls for them. Lea breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
His traveling companions bicker amongst themselves a little while longer before they continue their journey. Eventually they come across a simple, unassuming house, and it’s this that Phil declares to be Hercules’ home. Huh. It’s decidedly less grandiose than Lea had been expecting, what with Hercules being some mighty hero and all, but he doesn’t say any of that aloud. Perhaps the onus is on him for having those expectations at all.
“Well, ta-da, here we are,” the satyr says, gesturing at the house sarcastically. “You’re probably thinkin’ it don’t look like much, yeah?”
“No way,” Roxas answers unconvincingly, making a show of fawning over it. “It’s so...modest. I find that impressive.”
Xion covers her mouth with her hands to keep herself from guffawing. When Phil isn’t looking, Roxas sticks his tongue out at her and crosses his eyes—now Lea is the one biting back cackles.
“Uh-huh.” Phil shrugs. “Whatever. Sit here and relax a sec, I’ll be right back.” The trio watches him approach the door and give it a solid kick. When that doesn’t grant him entry, the satyr proceeds to pound on the door with his tiny fists while screaming bloody murder.
Lea, Roxas, and Xion all exchange nervous glances. There’s no time for speculative banter, because a tall, slender woman is opening the door and berating Phil for his behavior even as she ushers them all inside.
“I’m Megara, but my friends call me Meg, so do what you will with that information,” she says. Her smile is crooked, Lea notes distractedly, and it reminds him of Isa’s. His heart feels tender in his chest.
“This is Lea, Roxas, and Xion.” Phil points to each of them as he introduces their ragtag little group. Lea smiles thinly.
“So, what are you here for? I assume it’s not me.” Megara snaps her fingers. “Oh, right. You must be looking for Wonder Boy.”
“Ya hit the nail on the head, Meg! Now where is he?” The satyr peers around her as if Hercules will suddenly appear.
“Taking a rare nap, but this visit seems more important than your usual social calls, so have a seat and I’ll be back shortly with my husband in tow.” Megara disappears into the adjoining room and her footsteps fall silent as she progresses further into the house. Lea and his teenage wards awkwardly comply with her request and seat themselves around a small table; Phil, on the other hand, acts like he owns the place and begins munching on a bowl of fruit that Megara had clearly been picking through before their arrival.
“What?” The satyr inquires defensively, crossing his arms over his chest when he sees that the others are all staring at him. “It’s not like she was gonna finish it.” A beat, then: “Did you want some?”
“We just ate,” Xion says, shaking her head. And we aren’t interested in risking our host’s ire.
“Eh, suit yourselves,” Phil tells her, continuing to munch on the fruit without a care in the world.
Seconds pass, then minutes, and Lea is just about to start spiraling before Megara reappears. The man behind her is, quite frankly, a complete and total dreamboat hunk, muscular and strong with a kind smile and twinkling eyes.
If Lea’s heart wasn’t already spoken for, he might have started crushing on him.
“Hey!” Hercules smiles at them, flashing his pearly whites, and waves. “I’m Hercules, but you’ve probably already figured that out. Meg told me you were here for me?”
“They’re lookin’ for Sparky’s friend,” Phil says, nodding his head in Lea’s direction. “I haven’t seen him, but thought maybe ya might know somethin’ I don’t.”
“I’ll do what I can to help,” Hercules says, still smiling as Lea sputters out a “Sparky?!”
“He’s looking for someone named Isa,” Xion continues, letting Lea’s irritation peter out as she carries the rest of the conversation. “He’s a few inches shorter than Sparky—er, Lea—and he has long blue hair and an x-shaped scar between his eyes.”
“That...actually sounds kind of familiar.” Hercules puts his hands on his shapely hips as he thinks it over. “I haven’t personally seen him, but the last time I crossed paths with Hades, he mentioned something about Little Boy Blue and X-Marks-The-Spot.”
Fury makes Lea sick at heart, even without knowing who this Hades is. “I had a dream I’d seen him again, trapped somewhere underground, and he told me someone or something was keeping him there. He couldn’t fully say the name, but he managed to choke out what sounded like ‘hay’ before this smoky hand covered his mouth.”
Hercules’ brows draw together and his eyes are alight with righteous, flaming anger. “That sounds like Hades, alright. He doesn’t care who gets hurt, as long as they can play their parts in his schemes.”
Megara nods vehemently. “He’s a monster. I was trapped by his side for so long until Wonder Boy over here freed my soul.”
Soul. Lea, Roxas, and Xion exchange a barely-contained optimistic look.
“Hades...traps souls?” Lea asks, and he thanks the Gods he was brought up to worship that his voice doesn’t shake the way his knees are.
“You must not be from around here,” Hercules says, voice suffused with a bit of easygoing humor. “He’s the God of the Underworld. That’s kind of in his job description.”
Lea’s head is spinning reminiscent of the way it did that one summer the fair came to Radiant Garden, and this time, he doesn’t have Isa to distract him with a running commentary about their fellow park-goers. Bile burns his throat something fierce, and for a long, agonizing moment, he can’t even speak.
“We’re travelers,” Roxas explains, giving Lea a chance to recuperate before jumping back into the discussion. “And we want to know how to retrieve one soul in specific.”
Megara hums approvingly. “You’re either a complete idiot or a total badass. People don’t just seek out Hades whenever they want, you know. And they don’t usually survive such an encounter.” She gestures at her husband. “You’re looking at a rare exception.”
Hercules looks away bashfully. “It’s because I loved you enough to take the risk, Meg. And I would do it again if I had to.”
Love. Lea’s hands ball into fists at his side. “Take me to Hades.”
Phil snorts derisively. “Uh, no offense, Sparky, but makin’ fire with your hands isn’t gonna be enough to take down the Lord of the Underworld.”
“You haven’t even seen what he can do,” Xion argues, shaking her head at the naysaying satyr.
“Yeah, she’s right!” Roxas steals the grape Phil had been about to eat and pops it into his mouth.
“Whoa, whoa, who do ya think you are here, Achilles or somethin’?!” A sea of unimpressed faces surrounds him, and he sighs wearily. “Oh, all right. Sparky, you’re up against Herc. Herc, don’t kill him, okay? I know you could snap him in two over your knee, but go easy on him. I got a soft spot for suckers, I guess.”
Lea wants to take issue with Phil’s comments, really, he does, but upon looking at Hercules’ strong thighs...well. He might be a bit pencil-ish in comparison. Even compared to Isa, he’d always been rather lithe. Don’t think about that now, he scolds himself, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts had taken.
“I’m always up for a good spar,” Hercules tells him earnestly, “and if it’ll help you get your friend back, that’s all the better.”
Lea shakes the brain fog out of his head and agrees. “So, where are we doin’ this?”
“Not here,” Megara says to the two of them emphatically. “I don’t want to have to redecorate the house again.”
Hercules has the decency to look sheepish. “No, not here. We’ll go to the Coliseum.”
“Good boy.” She blows him a kiss, which he enthusiastically pretends to catch. Lea’s chest aches and he averts his gaze, only to lock eyes with Phil. Instead of the mocking look he would’ve expected, there’s only deep understanding.
“I’m rootin’ for ya, Sparky,” he says, clapping Lea on the back. “Even though you’re the width of a reed swayin’ in the wind, I’m rootin’ for ya.”
That nets Phil the only genuine smile Lea’s given him since they’d first met that same day.
—
“Alright, I want this to be a nice, clean match, ya hear me? No third-degree burns and no getting squished like a bug—yes, Sparky, I’m lookin’ at you.” Lea just rolls his eyes good-naturedly. His body is already thrumming with that delightful pre-fight anticipation; his fingers are twitching, clenching at a Keyblade handle that hasn’t been called into existence yet, hasn’t yet become an outward extension of his heart born from fire and steel.
That changes as soon as Phil says “go!” Hercules is gracious enough to allow Lea the first move, and he doesn’t waste it, opting for a flashy fireshow as mostly a distraction while he lunges at him with Flame Liberator in hand.
Hercules deflects his Keyblade with one hand, using the other to shield his face from the intense heat of the conflagration Lea had cast his way. Undeterred, Lea form-changes his Keyblade into something he’s more comfortable with; the Eternal Flames fit perfectly in his grasp with an ever-familiar weight. He weaves to the side utilizing a burst of speed (which assists in narrowly avoiding a punch from Hercules), and sends his chakrams whistling toward his sparring partner.
It’s a direct hit, and Hercules doesn’t look fazed so much as he seems irritated. Lea recalls his chakrams to his hands and continues their deadly dance, maintaining his distance and always planning his next move—if he happens to tire Hercules out in the meantime, he’ll consider it a welcome bonus.
“I can’t watch,” Roxas moans in the stands, covering his face with his hands. Xion elbows him in the side.
“You big baby,” she says fondly. “I can see you peeking through your fingers.”
Roxas huffs, mildly annoyed. “Well, of course. He’s our friend and we have to support him.”
Beside them, Phil is watching the match with unbridled interest. “Ya know, I gotta say, I really didn’t have any faith in Sparky at first, like, we’re talkin’ zip, zilch, nada. But he’s not totally garbage, is he?”
“You were the only one who ever thought that,” Xion reminds him, wrinkling her nose. She doesn’t cheer for Lea, doesn’t dare do anything that might ruin his concentration, but she does grip Roxas’ hand. He grabs hers in turn, and they continue their wide-eyed spectating.
In the end, the match is much closer than anyone thought it would be, and Hercules looks cheerful as he wipes a bit of blood off of his face. He picks Lea up off the ground without expending any real effort and pats his back.
“That was a real workout for me,” he informs Lea happily, and the sincere gratitude in his voice makes Lea crack a semi-conscious smile.
“‘S’good,” he replies. “I’m happy to oblige ya”.
“I think you and I could stand a real chance at defeating Hades,” Hercules tells him, walking toward the stands (he knows Phil has something healing on hand for his valiant sparring partner).
“What?” Lea opens one of his eyes and fixes it on the arena they’re retreating from, watching it slowly start to shrink in the distance. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you’ve come a long way for someone who’s dear to you, and I find that heroic.” Hercules gently sits Lea down and motions to Phil, who quickly snags a glowing bottle of something and tosses it to him. Hercules catches it easily and hands it to Lea. “Here, drink up. And to answer your question completely truthfully, without omitting anything...it reminds me of the lengths I went to and the sacrifices I made to save Meg.”
Lea almost spits out the potion upon hearing the comparison Hercules draws betwixt them. “I’m nothing like you,” he tells him firmly. “You’re good, and I’m...complicated.”
His sparring partner lets out a booming laugh. “Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of complications. I still do. That doesn’t preclude you from doing good deeds, or becoming someone’s hero.”
Lea hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear those words until Hercules says them; he feels like a cactus that’s been waiting for water for so long, he doesn’t remember what it’s like not to thirst, to crave, to need. He doesn’t recall a time when he wholeheartedly believed in himself.
His eyes sting, but the tears cling stubbornly to his lashes and refuse to fall. “Thanks, pal.”
“Anytime, Lea.”
—
Back at Hercules and Megara’s home, the aforementioned couple are setting up their guest room for Lea, Roxas, and Xion. Lea had tried to help, but he’s still recovering from the bout he’d partaken in earlier, and what’s more, they’d all been banned from doing anything remotely useful.
“Guests don’t need to help,” Hercules had said, smiling broadly as he ruffled the teenagers’ hair. Megara had stowed her usual snark away and worn a soft expression directed at her husband instead.
So here Lea is, nestled in wool blankets and fighting to keep his eyes open as Roxas and Xion swiftly text beside him, fingers zooming across their touch screens as they presumably update their fellow Guardians on the situation they’d all found themselves in.
“He’ll still be there tomorrow, you know,” Megara tells him, tucking a decorative pillow into his arms.
“Who?” Lea asks, though he suspects he’s already aware of the answer.
“Isa.” She squeezes his shoulder gently, then pulls away; physical affection doesn’t appear to be something she makes a habit of. “I was bound to Hades once. As horrible and cruel as he is, I can’t imagine that he’d throw away someone he spoke so highly of to Herc.”
The thought only brings him the slightest bit of relief. “It’s my fault that he’s stuck there at all.” He grits his teeth and forces back an overpowering wave of heartsick guilt.
“Maybe,” Megara says, shrugging. She isn’t privy to the ins-and-outs of Lea’s history with Isa, hasn’t memorized the salient bullet points of the stories detailing their lives. “But you’re here now, aren’t you?”
He shuts his eyes, exhaling slowly. “But I’m here now.”
—
The following morning is both the shortest and longest of Lea’s life; Hercules cooks them all a hearty breakfast to wolf down before he and Lea start gearing up for the trip to the Underworld. Roxas and Xion aren’t making it easy for him to focus on the journey ahead.
“Lea, you need us,” Xion pleads, looking stricken.
“You’re good, but you’re not that good,” Roxas tells him flatly, arms crossed. “You need us.”
“I have Hercules for back up,” Lea says seriously. “And you two just got a shot at a semi-normal childhood; I’m not about to take that from ya.”
“You can’t make that decision for us!” Xion argues. Her eyes are shimmering, a precursor to the waterworks that are sure to follow.
“Look, I’m not comfortable with you riskin’ yourselves for me. Or for Isa. My heart—” He thumps his chest for emphasis. “—is tellin’ me I need to do this one on my own. You can understand that, can’t ya? May my heart be my guiding key.”
“I still think you’re being stupid,” Roxas says stubbornly. He’s scowling at Lea in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of back then, back when they were still in the clutches of the Organization. Lea blinks hard and the memory lets him go.
“Well, no one ever said I was the sharpest crayon in the box, huh?”
Xion laughs wetly. “Let’s get ice cream after this. The four of us.”
“Five, if we’re counting Hercules,” Roxas says sing-songingly, batting his eyelashes.
“Oh, quit it,” Lea hisses, looking over his shoulder to ensure Hercules wasn’t in earshot. “I just think he’s a nice guy. Very admirable.”
“We may only be chronologically around two years old, which really messes with my head when I’m alone and thinking about it, but we weren’t born yesterday, Lea.” Xion rolls her eyes.
“Anyway. We’re about to head to an apothecary and stock up on supplies, then we’re rollin’ out. Don’t give Meg too much grief, okay?”
Roxas smirks. “What about Phil?”
Lea barks a delighted laugh. “That joker? Nah. You can hassle him a little.”
The three of them share a long, fierce hug before Lea has to step back and follow Hercules, who’d just strode into the room, to the door. “I’ll be back,” he says quietly, voice tight with conviction. With love.
“With Isa,” Xion says.
“With ice cream,” Roxas adds, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself upbeat.
“With Isa and with ice cream, got it.” He crosses through the door, looks back once, and then he and Hercules set off for the Underworld. Lea doesn’t look back again.
—
“What’s this thing called again?” Lea pokes at the winged mount, earning himself an irritated whinny.
“That’s Pegasus,” Hercules says pleasantly, pushing Lea’s hand away. “We’ll take him to the Coliseum to shave off the time it’d take to walk, but once we reach the Gates, it’s just you and me.”
“Um,” Lea starts, a nervous, swooping feeling slithering through his stomach. “Do you have helmets?”
“Whatever for?” Hercules looks almost amused.
“I don’t want to crack my head like an egg!”
Hercules chuckles and squeezes Lea’s shoulder. “Lea, after training with me, do you honestly think I’d let you fall? Or that I couldn’t catch you?”
He feels a little stupid for having even inadvertently implied it. “Well...no. Of course not.”
“Then get on.” Lea does, albeit with the utmost reluctance. Pegasus doesn’t seem to like him, and the feeling is shared.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hercules says reassuringly. “He does that to everyone. Here, put your arms around me. Hang on tight!”
“I hate this,” Lea informs him, fully intent on complaining further before being forced to cling like a limpet as Pegasus flaps his powerful wings and takes off.
“It’s not so bad!” Hercules shouts, and if he hadn’t been pressed up close like this, Lea isn’t certain he’d have heard Hercules at all; the wind whistles in his ears as they hurtle through the air. He thinks he might scream.
Fortunately, he doesn’t. Childlike wonder takes precedence over the heart-gripping fear, and Lea marvels at the views he’s able to see from such dizzying heights.
“Oh,” he says softly, eyes going wide. If Hercules hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge it, and the rest of the flight is spent in companionable silence.
—
The sun is high overhead by the time Pegasus’ hooves touch down at the Coliseum. Like many of the buildings and constructs Lea’s seen thus far, it’s held up by towering white columns and littered with golden reliefs.
“Wait for us here,” Hercules says to his mount, gracefully dismounting in one smooth movement. True to form, he offers Lea his hand, which is gratefully taken—Lea’s legs feel like jelly.
Pegasus neighs loudly. It must indicate that he both understands and agrees to do so, because Hercules grins at him and pats his flank.
“See you later,” he tells his mount.
Luckily for the two of them, the Coliseum is rather empty, with only a few practices scheduled sporadically throughout the day.
“This way,” Hercules says, motioning toward a large set of doors. Every hair on Lea’s neck stands on end as they approach it and a heaviness settles in his gut. It’s hopeless, a voice laments in the privacy of his cluttered mind. Attempting the impossible is a fool’s errand.
He must look as distraught as he feels, because Hercules claps him on the shoulder. It effectively breaks his melancholic monologue.
“Don’t listen to it,” Hercules says encouragingly. “I hear something too, every time I have to venture down here. You have to believe in yourself.”
Lea nods. His fire is reignited; his desire to save Isa is powerful enough to combat any intrusive thoughts thrown his way. “Let’s go.”
The air on the other side of those doors is oppressive, and it worsens the further they wander in. It’s cold and dark; the only sources of light are ghostly blue flames that decorate the walls, burning without a discernible source. Lea shivers.
“Mortals aren’t exactly meant to be down here.” Hercules hastens his pace and Lea follows suit, long legs easily allowing him to keep up. “I learned that lesson for myself when I saved Meg.”
Lea is doubly glad he hadn’t allowed Roxas and Xion to accompany him. Better to be the only casualty, if he’s to fail.
Isa, hold on.
—
It’s hard to tell if they’re making any headway; every room looks the same to Lea, but Hercules still wears that same determined countenance he’d entered the labyrinthine Underworld sporting, so he imagines they’re progressing slightly.
“It’s quiet,” Hercules murmurs, scanning the chamber they’re passing through. It’s silent as the grave, though it’s filled with a thick fog obscuring visibility.
“Too quiet?” Lea jokes, going for some much-needed levity, but it falls flat; his pulse is jumping and it makes him nauseous.
“Too quiet,” Hercules answers (as though it hadn’t been tongue-in-cheek). He stills, looking at Lea thoughtfully. “Can you do something about that fog?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” He summons Flame Liberator to his hand and points the end of the blade in front of him. “Aero!”
A gust of wind tears through the cavern and forces the dense fog to dissipate. In the center of it all, about twenty feet away, a person-shaped being lurks. Its features are blurry, but they sharpen and begin to become more distinct the closer Lea and Hercules get.
Lea’s heart stops in his chest.
“Isa?” He stammers, almost tripping as he rockets forward and crushes his best friend against his chest in a desperate embrace. His arms don’t pass through thin air this time and he sobs, overpowered by the warm relief that surges through his veins.
The feeling doesn’t last. “It’s your fault that I’m here.” Isa’s lips are pressed against his ear, voice pitched soft so Hercules doesn’t overhear. “My resentment and hatred for you have been brewing ever since we were children. I have always thought you were irritating and unintelligent, and I only befriended you to have access to someone I could mold into my underling.”
Lea stiffens in his arms, but Isa won’t let go. “I joined the Organization with you solely to look for the girl and I laughed when you faded from existence. My first true emotion in a decade, and it was amusement.”
“Isa,” Lea says, voice cracking. “You don’t mean that.”
“How do you know?” He pushes Lea away, holds him at arm’s length. His green eyes glitter cruelly. “Everyone who was there at the time is now dead or gone.”
“Lea, that’s not Isa.” Hercules’ voice cuts through the conversation; Lea had nearly forgotten he’d ever been there at all.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve never met him before.” When he turns back to look at Isa, some bits of his broken heart begin to piece themselves back together.
At this angle, he can see that there’s a heart-shaped hole in Isa’s chest. He stumbles away from the Heartless on unsteady legs, feeling as though someone had just upended a bucket of ice water over his head.
“You’re not Isa.”
“Bravo, carrot top.” This voice is both insufferably smug and wholly unfamiliar; Lea suspects he’s about to find that the person it belongs to doesn’t endear him much further.
The newcomer is tall, clothed in all black and has a spout of blue flames in place of any hair. Hercules glowers at him.
“Hades,” he shouts, body tensing like he’s about to charge him. Lea’s blood turns cold. Hades, the Lord of the Underworld.
“Buh-buh-buh-buh,” Hades counters, stopping Hercules simply by holding out his hand. “You’re here for a reason, and it would be so unfortunate to come all this way only for that reason—” He snaps his fingers, and the Heartless that had been impersonating Isa is wreathed by flames, shrieking wretchedly as it burns to death. “—to meet with a terrible fate.”
“What do you want?” Lea asks him; he’s much too far gone and drowning in hopelessness to muster a believable bluff. “What price would you put on the other half of my heart?”
Hades makes a displeased face. “Ease up on the sap, Romeo. I only need the smallest favor from you.”
“Don’t listen to him!” Hercules yells, but he’s the last thing demanding Lea’s attention right now.
“What is it?” His knees are weak. “What’s the favor?”
“Weeeeell…” Hades makes a show of practiced nonchalance. “It’s simple, really. I need your help in conquering in the cosmos. Do that, and Little Boy Blue…” He conjures up an image of Isa drifting lifelessly in a wide well with countless other souls; the water seems to be lit an eerie green from within. “Is free to go.”
“Me? Conquering the cosmos?” Lea wears his confusion plain on his face. “I’m not exactly a warrior from legend.”
Hades hums affirmingly. “It’s less about you and more about what you are. What you have.”
“My Keyblade.” Things are starting to become crystal clear in his panicked mind. “You need me to unlock something for you.”
“Bingo!” The smile directed his way unnerves Lea: Hades has dozens of sharp, needle-like teeth. “I just need you to do that for me, then you can be on your merry way with your sweetheart.”
“M-my sweetheart?”
Hades’ cold eyes twinkle with malicious amusement. “Little Boy Blue talked you up when I first snagged his soul out of the hands of his pantheon. He sang like a bird. Tragic, really, what happened to the two of you—but now there’s a chance to do something about it.”
He takes a breath, then two, inhaling so deeply it pains his lungs. What other choice was there? In what universe would he not choose Isa after losing him twice, even at the cost of annihilation?
Hercules doesn’t give him a chance to make that choice, lunging at Hades with a burst of incredible speed; like he’d been expecting it, Hades’ arms are licked by twin serpents born of flames that leap through the air and encircle Hercules.
Or they would have, if Lea hadn’t thrown out a blazing wall at the last possible second before they were due to make contact. They absorb harmlessly into his own conflagration. Hades looks furious, turning a raging red.
Lea winks at him with far more bravado than he feels. “Guess I’m doin’ something about it.”
They make a decent team, Lea and Hercules, but they don’t fight as fluidly as he does with Roxas and Xion. They aren’t a cohesive unit.
They don’t share that sort of bond.
Nevertheless, they’re taking whatever punches Hades tosses their way and rolling with them, sending a flurry of their own in return, but it isn’t enough, not when the Lord of the Underworld snaps his fingers and summons a host of menacing Heartless.
“Lea, get out of here. Through this chamber, you’ll find a twisting passageway that forks off into two tunnels. Take the right and go down the winding stairs; you’ll find the Well of Souls there. You’ll be a true hero if you take the plunge!”
Lea nearly misses the Heartless he’d been entangled with, just barely grazing its head. “Are you crazy?” He asks, tone shot through with disbelief. “What about you?”
Hercules gives him a brave smile. “Well, let’s just say my father owes me a boon. And he really hates his brother.”
“Hades is your—”
“Lea, go,” Hercules commands, and all shock at learning their family relation melts into a mesh of determination and dread. The last time he’d pulled a stunt like this; it’d cost him his existence, but Lea has grown since then, in both heart and mind and soul.
He jumps back from the battle, steels his resolve, and sets himself ablaze.
Unlike before, it doesn’t eat away at him. Lea can’t feel the flames dancing across his skin. A grin blooms across his face as he charges back into the fray, cutting a path across the room and freeing hearts as he goes. Hercules has occupied Hades, managing to restrain him in a headlock, but it’s clear that he won’t be held in place forever.
Lea runs and doesn’t look back.
—
The directions Hercules had given him remain fresh in his mind; he mumbles them under his breath until he becomes intimately familiar with the shape of each word.
The tunnel stretches on further than Lea would’ve expected, however, and he begins to doubt the veracity of his memory until he hears something skittering inside a bolthole in the rock walls behind him. He breaks into a sprint, hoping desperately to outrun whatever horrible thing it might be.
Faintly, Lea sees a hint of ghostly green light ahead of him. I’m at the home stretch, Isa. Though his legs feel as if they’re rubber, he powers on and continues to his destination, burning brightly enough to illuminate the darkness around him.
Whatever it was that’d been tracking him through the walls has fallen silent, and Lea takes the first step down the spiraling stone stairs. The entire chamber is bathed in viridescent light, and it only becomes more vivid the further down he goes. Each step makes him feel progressively more sluggish, bone-weary, and fatigued, but Lea presses on.
“For Isa,” he whispers to himself. It’s enough to keep the flame in his heart burning.
It always has been.
He descends until there’s nowhere else he can go: he stands on top of a tall, thick stalagmite that overlooks a wide well. Beneath him, Lea realizes the source of that eerie green luminescence—it’s full of human souls, swimming in circles and glowing a sickly celadon.
He doesn’t know how much time he has. Hades could be right behind him, closing in on him in a heated pursuit while followed by a legion of Heartless. Lea scans across the large pool with a growing despair; he can’t spot Isa. There are too many souls writhing together to make out anyone specific.
“Please, let this work.” With shaking, trembling hands, he summons Flame Liberator and points it down below. Nothing happens. There’s no beam of brilliant light that shoots down to illuminate Isa.
Lea falls to his knees. “Please,” he weeps brokingly, beseechingly. “I can’t lose him again.”
May your heart be your guiding key.
He dismisses his Keyblade. A frenzied mania bubbles underneath his skin and courses through his veins. Lea approaches the edge of the stalagmite and peers down into the depths below.
“It’s a long way down,” he says, backing away. Lea takes a moment to utter a quick, silent prayer to the Gods above, any that might be listening, and does a running leap into the watery abyss.
The dark waters are frigid; it shocks the breath out of him and he chokes, sinking farther below the surface. The closer he gets to the mass of souls, the more chilled and frail he feels, and with a start, Lea sees that he’s visibly decaying. His skin peels away in strips and his bones grow brittle.
No, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I was supposed to save him. I was supposed to be a true hero.
With his last breath, Lea says Isa’s name.
For a long, agonizing moment, everything is quiet and still, save for the gentle ripple of the water and the murmurs of those unlucky enough to dwell within it.
Then a glowing burst of pink light fills the cavern, from the highest stalactite to the very bottom of the well.
Lea opens his eyes, hale and whole again. He fumbles with his stiff, freezing limbs, and calls Flame Liberator into existence. Like a dowsing rod, it points him in the right direction, and though at first he struggles through the throng of souls, a few spells are more than enough to keep most of them at bay, and he manages to get out of the vice-grip two are clutching him with.
He catches sight of Isa’s long blue hair flowing with the motion of the waves. His face is obscured by it, but Lea would know him anywhere, would know him from his silhouette and presence alone. He’s still in that despicable black coat, and it only fuels Lea’s resolve.
He swims forward, powered by pure love, by hope and hellfire and heroics. Lea brushes Isa’s hair out of his face and cups his cheeks. He’s colder than ice and growing pale, but with his eyes closed, he appears almost serene. He looks like he’s only sleeping.
Isa, it’s time to wake up.
He’s featherlight in Lea’s grasp; their ascent to the top is much quicker than Lea had any right to imagine it would be.
Unfortunately, cold fear sets in as they breach the surface. There’s no visible place for Lea to get out of the water. He can’t climb the wet stalagmite on his own, much less with Isa in tow.
“Up here, darling!” Lea doesn’t recognize the high, clear voice that’s calling out to him; he cranes his neck to look for the source.
A woman with long, luxurious pink hair peeks over the edge and offers him a coy wave.
“I don’t know how to get back up there,” he responds, projecting his voice so he can be heard over the rushing water.
“Oh, how silly of me.” The woman waves her hand and stairs made from seafoam line themselves up elegantly until they reach the plateau he’d jumped from. “Just hit them with an ice spell, darling; that ought to do the trick.”
Why did it have to be ice? Lea almost grumbles, but there’s no time for that. “Don’t fail me now,” he says to his magical abilities, holding Isa in one arm and wielding his Keyblade with his free hand. Snowflakes shoot from Flame Liberator’s tip, sticking to the stairs and coalescing across them.
“It’ll be a cold day in Tartarus before I let you just walk away with X-Face there,” Hades drawls, materializing merely a few feet away from Lea, hovering above the water.
“Oh, Hades!” Aphrodite cuts in, voice bubbly and loud. “The red haired one committed such an act of self-sacrifice for his beloved that I simply had no choice but to heed his unintentional call. Besides,” she continues, hand on her hip. Her gaze turns sly, assessing. “You don’t seem nearly smug enough for someone who’d just vanquished his greatest nemesis. Did your big brother give you a hard time? Or worse, did Hercules not require any assistance at all?”
Hades’ temperature had been steadily rising the longer she’d spoken, and he erupts into a candescence of frenzied flames. “Enough! Why I oughta..,you can’t speak to me like that in my own place of power.” He points at Lea, who’s been swimming toward the frozen stairs this entire time, and Lea stops moving entirely. “I was going to let them go. I was! But you had to step in and do your whole tired diva act, and I’ve had it. So! Romeo and Little Boy Blue suffer the consequences.”
Aphrodite nearly looks as indignant as Lea. “That’s hardly fair, Hades, dearest!”
“Stay calm, there’s still a way for them to win.” Lea is settling into a numb sort of calm, something he’d only felt the likeness of back when he’d still been Axel.
“What?” He asks, voice taut as a bowstring. Isa stirs in his arms, but doesn’t wake. Lea continues treading water.
“If you can make it through the Underworld and back into the mortal realm, all without looking back to ensure that X-Face is following you, you can have his soul. I’m a generous god; I won’t hold a grudge.”
“And if I can’t?” Lea says voicelessly, barely audible over the sound of the damned souls behind them.
“Then he stays here with me. Forever.”
“You’re pulling an Orpheus-and-Eurydice again?” Aphrodite sighs, but there’s a hint of admiration there. “Oh, alright. Romeo, approach the stairs now.”
He doesn’t take the time to explain that Romeo isn’t his name; Lea obeys her command, helping himself and Isa onto the steps. The journey up them is more difficult, but Lea is powered by a dizzying cocktail of love and fear. Once he reaches the summit, Aphrodite takes Isa from his arms. Power ripples in the air, so thick Lea can almost taste it, and Isa awakens with a start. He coughs up lungfuls of water and gags on his own breath, but he looks gloriously alive in a way that he hadn’t a moment prior.
Before Lea can throw himself into Isa’s arms, Aphrodite begins to speak. “Now face forward, and your beloved will walk behind you. Go on, darlings, lest dearest Hades will change his mind!”
“Isa,” Lea says suddenly, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon. “I never stopped lovin’ you.”
There’s a sharp inhale from behind him, and he can almost Isa overthinking his response. “Not even when I—”
“Not even then,” Lea whispers wetly, tears burning at the corners of his eyes as they begin to leave the Gods behind. He doesn’t know what Isa had been about to say, but it wouldn’t have changed his answer. “I died for you, Isa. I died every day we were kept apart.”
He thinks he can hear Aphrodite and Hades bickering in the background, but Lea is far more focused on the sound of Isa’s footsteps.
“You were the only thing keeping me from slipping into total oblivion here,” Isa murmurs, voice thick with longing. “My Light in the Darkness.”
“The sun to your moon,” Lea says readily, and his laughter is colored by unabashed affection.
“Just so.” A comfortable silence falls between them. They’re making faster progress than he’d anticipated; Isa is scarcely showing any signs of fatigue, easily keeping pace behind Lea.
The silence turns less comfortable when Lea realizes he’ll have to pay zealous attention to his natural reactions—to gaze at Isa, to hold him, to relearn the way he kisses Lea like he might die if he doesn’t—if he wants to ensure his beloved can come home. And total silence, too, would not be a comfort: the mimic Heartless is still fresh in his mind. There is no easy way to go about this.
“Stop thinking so much. I can hear it.” The words are so typical from Isa, and Lea has to fight off the urge to playfully punch his shoulder.
“I’m just thinkin’ about you,” he says, keeping his voice honeyed and coy. “Thinkin’ about tellin’ you every little thing that went through my head when you were gone. You were never far from my mind.”
“That’s cheating,” Isa chides, feigning irritation, but Lea can hear the shy desire in his tone.
“I cheated death to bring you home,” he says simply, wishing to reassure Isa of his heartfelt devotion. “I think you can handle a little teasin’.” Despite this, Lea doesn’t, relishing the sound of Isa’s quiet laughter.
He’s so caught up in the moment that he nearly doesn’t process what Isa says next.
“Close your eyes!” The cavern they’d just entered has a glimmering pool of water on the rocky floor—Lea catches sight of his own green eyes, his face freckled face before he heeds Isa’s demand. “I’ll guide you through,” Isa promises, settling a hand on the small of Lea’s back. “If you trust me.”
Lea almost laughs, because it’s so Isa to still need to ask a question like that, but he manages to keep his voice steady. “With my life and whatever comes after.”
Isa makes a soft noise like he’s almost wounded by the burning love Lea bears for him. “Here, turn slightly left to avoid a puddle…”
They continue on like that, with Lea’s eyes shut and led by Isa’s quiet voice and gentle touch, until the danger is passed, and even beyond. The entrance is within sight and Isa allows himself the right to weep silently, to let himself embrace his feelings for Lea and a hope for their future unreservedly.
“Almost there, darling,” Isa murmurs absentmindedly. Lea feels the breath leave his lungs at the sound of that word on his best friend’s lips. “Just a little further.”
Against every odd, every law of the Universe as it was known, they had done the unspeakable.
They had bested the Gods.
—
The first thing that Lea does outside of the Coliseum is kiss Isa desperately, with the force of a decade’s worth of mutual pining. They don’t part until they’re on the verge of suffocating. The second thing he does is tear down a tapestry and wrap it around Isa in the semblance of clothes.
“You’re naked,” Lea says insufferably. Isa maintains his cool countenance.
“And you’re always stating the obvious.” Lea doesn’t take the bait; he stares at Isa, gaze tracing his body with a loving hunger.
“Wait,” he says, trying to clear his Isa-induced brain fog. “How are you here? Shouldn’t you be recompleting in Radiant Garden?”
“Perhaps,” Isa ruminates, tilting his head as he thinks it over. “I have a strong hunch that this is a parting favor from Aphrodite. I may feel differently later on, but at the present moment, I don’t care to dwell on the whys or the hows.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Lea mutters, and he indulges himself by settling his hands on Isa’s hips, intent on leaning down for another long kiss when Phil wolf-whistles at them, appearing out of the blue. Hercules is decent enough to stay quiet and stick to a thumbs up.
“Take me home, Lea,” Isa mumbles, burying his head against Lea’s neck. “I have so much I need to say.”
“You have time to say it.” Isa feels lips brush against his forehead, lingering. Warmth spreads from his head to his toes. It sounds like a promise, a vow.
“Yes. We have time.”
—
END.