Chapter Text
Nothing felt quite as surreal as plunging into these familiar folds of darkness. Wearing the coat, the mark of the Organization once more, most definitely came in close second, Even had to say.
No, not Even. Not as long as he played this fabricated part. No doubt he'd be dubbed Vexen once more by Master Xehanort and his alternate versions from various timelines. To think, in all his years, traveling time was a possibility considered unfathomable in modern science, something beyond human – or beings close to it – comprehension.
How Vexen would've very much liked to have gone back himself. Rewind the clock and undo his heinous actions against innocent lives.
But here, now, there was only this. The opportunity of a second chance to make things right.
A familiar head of blue led the way from the dark corridor. That mane of hair he'd known to be kept neat to the utmost precision was whipped wildly across his guide's face by the warmed wind of the desert waiting on the other side. The sight of Saïx, his former uptight second in command, wrestling to unobscure his vision rang amusing, if not downright comical; annoying, however, when Vexen was then subjected to the same treatment.
He spit blond strands from his mouth, already missing the calm, floral scented atmosphere of Radiant Garden compared to this dirt filled wasteland that he'd be calling home for the foreseeable future. If Saïx found Vexen's similar struggles in any way amusing with that heart he now knew resided within him – whether entirely his or not – he had the sense not to let it show on the surface. His expression stayed as static and serious as it had grown to be within the first Organization they'd join together.
There were actual important matters at hand, after all.
"Are you sure about this?"
Nothing quite irked Vexen more than the repeating of questions he had already answered. The third time was certainly no different. Vexen wanted to snap, "Would I waste my time following you if I wasn't? They personally sent you for me, did they not?" He held his tongue before it could come out, gratingly aware of how it would've sounded in a way he normally would not have cared about before.
It was Saïx himself who was uncertain. Uncertain if this former colleague of his would really sign his regained freedom away for one simple request. Well, the request wasn't very simple at all now, was it? He'd be putting great work into said request for at least a month's time, he expected. The repeating question was only expected too.
"You do need my help, correct?" Vexen spoke over the whistling wind between them. "Well, I'm here to provide it."
Saïx was only in this for Roxas and Xion. Yes, Master Xehanort had personally enlisted the man for his own purposes, but per usual, Saïx merely followed through for secret motives of his own. Hidden intentions, and boy did he hide them well. Saïx held a pride like no other, and the fact that he openly asked Vexen for his assistance, willingly let him in on his plan of deception, spoke great volumes.
His sheer dedication of risking his newly restored life to bring those two back. To smuggle them away at the dawn of the Keyblade War onto the side of light where they'd be protected and no longer used by enemy hands. To atone for the children he had mistreated and plotted against with the intention of throwing away when no longer of use to him. Vexen was not the only man who wished to change.
Besides, the Organization needed quite a few replicas in order to fill out their ranks. A skill only Vexen had alone. If he didn't rejoin now, he had a feeling that he'd simply be sought after again on less negotiable terms.
"That won't be all that you'll be providing," Saïx warned. "In serving this Organization, you'll be required to house a fragment of Xehanort within you." His frown deepened, eyes briefly cutting away to the large domain waiting in the distance. "It is... an intense process."
One he had the misfortune of undergoing twice now. A heart, the most personal and powerful culmination of one's being, twice removed and desecrated with a fragment of someone else invading its space. Vexen couldn't lie to himself; it sounded very daunting indeed. But again, nothing he hadn't already expected.
"I appreciate the concern, Saïx," Vexen said, whether that was what it truly was, or just an illusion of such in order to secure his only strategy of seeing his betrayal ended in success. Neither were necessary. "I am prepared for whatever obstacles that need be faced. Just as you are."
Saïx dipped his head. "Very well. I will take you to the Master."
They continued to the graveyard's castle standing tall, gray, and bare among the rocky landscape. The inside appeared just as desolate and barren, devoid of any signs that anyone yet lived here. Apparently the youngest of the Xehanort's was busy retrieving hearts from times of the past, modifying them in advance for the vessels Vexen were to prepare. The castle wouldn't stay this way for long. Sterile gray halls led them high into the base, Saïx standing back once at the intricate door that Vexen was expected through. To meet who he was expected to devote his service to.
Master Xehanort was a terrifying character. The physical appearance of a frail, elderly man, but the off-putting sense of something else entirely lurking underneath the facade. Someone you'd regret trifling with.
Those eyes… the same gold and just as potent as Xemnas', as Xigbar's and Saïx's had been for so long, Vexen not even certain of their previous true color. He swore they penetrated straight through his chest, garnering a perfect view of his soon to be target. Unsettling enough to produce pricking chills underneath his skin and nothing had even occurred yet.
Vexen bowed in greeting. First impressions went a long way. Better to immediately show his willingness to serve and guise of respect. He did not often abandon decorum, not for things as trivial as natural nerves where he expected them to surface. Master Xehanort's lips pulled into a wrinkled smile.
"Welcome, my friend."
To Vexen, Saïx was a known liar. This, he had not lied about.
The process of welcoming Xehanort into his heart could've gone on for hours. It could've been a mere few minutes. The sensation of pain that descended, it soon plunged into deep pits of agony, tapped into the desperately buried memory of that moment his heart had been ripped away, and yet still didn't quite compare in its sheer intensity. By the time his surroundings managed to unblur themselves, burning eyes subjected to harsh lights haloing that hairless head, surprisingly strong grips leaving his person, and an unwelcome eyepatched face he hadn't remembered seeing beforehand, any semblance of outward decorum had gone.
Vexen was delivered to his brand new laboratory where he made a beeline to his brand new bathroom and stayed bent over his brand new toilet bowl for what felt to be hours more. The nausea that surged through his gut had his fingers painfully digging into the porcelain, ears deafened by the echoed panting that registered much too loudly to suddenly all too sensitive senses.
Ienzo had come down with the flu, once. Back when he was still just a tiny thing. Vexen had remained by his side through it all; the back rubs as he emptied his stomach for the umpteenth time, the request for cuddles he rarely asked for while snuggled under his favorite, worn blanket, and those long, late nights where the poor child was too uncomfortable to even sleep, Vexen staying up to place cool towels on his overheating head, offering all of the support and comfort he could.
For some reason, that's what happened to come to mind as Vexen pressed his sweated forehead into the bathroom wall, a mindless seeking of comfort to alleviate his own increased temperature. Alone.
Boots clicking against tile from somewhere within the laboratory falsified that statement for him. Saïx, presumably to deposit what he'd found of the replica notes and files on Xion. Him stepping into the tiny space, clinking a glass of water against his shoulder was the last thing Vexen expected.
He graciously accepted it without a word. Neither did Saïx speak. He stayed silent as a ghost while Vexen attempted to regain some bearings, peeling the leather coat from his skin, but not quite desperate enough for his soaked t-shirt to follow with the blue-haired man overstaying his welcome.
It felt silly – childish, really – to be embarrassed by having his disheveled state witnessed, let alone by someone who he had been in the opposite position with many times before. Even though, Vexen didn't have it in him to ask why he was still here.
…He supposed it was nice to have one person bothering to care, illusion or not.
So they stayed that way– for as long as Vexen's pride would let them.
Enough of this pity wallowing. Science did not wait for anyone and time had already started ticking down.
At Vexen moving to stand, Saïx came forward with arms stretched out. He was swiftly swatted away.
"I'm fine, honestly Saïx," he huffed, snatching up his coat and forcing his back straight to prove it. If Saïx could handle this ordeal no problem, so could he. This would not be the most harrowing thing the two of them expected to face together. Not in the slightest.
"Now, leave me. There is much I must begin."