#ive been meaning to make a post about it but ansem has never had a consistent model during the PS2 era

[mushroom-winners-proof]

kh making small edits to its models as the series goes on is my favorite thing and one of the details ive only really noticed recently is that xigbar has a more yellowish tone to his skin opposed to pink after kh2

[violethowler]

Break the Wheel

It’s a common point of discussion in the Kingdom Hearts fandom how often the main heroes are screwed over by the actions and attitudes of their various mentors. Ansem the Wise, Eraqus, the Master of Masters... Nearly every mentor figure in the series has contributed in some way to the pain the young people they interact with have endured over the course of the series. 

The Master of Masters deliberately manipulated his pupils into turning against each other and starting a war to further his own agenda. The Foretellers spread that suspicion and mistrust of each other outward to the members of their respective Unions. From what we’re seeing so far, the Dandelions are removed from the Master’s direct influence and are handling the Potential Traitor discussion so much better than the Foretellers did in Back Cover, but something still clearly went wrong that left at least four of them thousands of years in the future with only vague memories of their past at best. 

Birth by Sleep showed how Eraqus’ paranoia and distrust of darkness directly lead to the suffering of his pupils. His attitude toward Terra’s darkness in the beginning drove the latter to seek validation from Xehanort, who used Terra for his own agenda causing Aqua to trap herself in the Realm of Darkness to save her friend. Eraqus’ insistence that she spy on Terra and bring Ven back to the Land of Departure drove a wedge between the trio at Radiant Garden. And his willingness to kill Ventus to stop Xehanort leads to his duel with Terra and subsequent death. 

Ienzo’s role in the experiments performed by the Organization’s founders prior to the fall of Radiant Garden is unclear, but his conversation with Ansem in Kingdom Hearts III suggests that the older apprentices kept him in the dark about many things and might have potentially used Ansem’s fondness for him to manipulate their mentor. This resulted in Ansem’s banishment and - if DDD is any indication - turning Ienzo into a Nobody against his will when he was only 8 years old. 

Ansem himself went on to openly seek the destruction of Roxas, Xion, and Namine for the sake of his revenge against everyone who wronged him, using his prejudice against Nobodies to justify the things he did in pursuit of his goals. And despite guiding Riku to accept his own darkness in Chain of Memories, Ansem still fundamentally buys into the view of Darkness as something inherently negative, best illustrated at the end of Riku’s side of that game where DiZ attempted to make Riku choose between the “road to light” and “road to darkness”, implicitly trying to force Riku into a rigid either/or path that Riku rejects in favor of choosing “the middle road”.

This pattern has repeated often enough that when fans on Twitter shared screenshots of Dark Road from the game’s prematurely leaked website showing Master Odin, several fans - myself included - began eagerly anticipating the ways in which this pattern of old men failing the young would rear its head in Xehanort’s time as an apprentice. 

The fact that this pattern appears so consistently across the entire Kingdom Hearts timeline is not an accident. The entire starting point of the Heroine’s Journey is built around the idea that the protagonist’s environment - parents, mentors, peers, sometimes even their entire society - has failed them in some way[1]. By forcing them to adhere to a rigid binary of what traits are considered desirable versus undesirable, it forces people who do not fit those standards to cut themselves off from vital parts of who they are in order to be recognized and validated.

So when the younger generation grows up with these standards and is called to fix the mistakes of their elders, they are expected to do so on their mentors’ terms[2]. In doing so, they will ultimately continue the cycle that led to those problems in the first place. But the central protagonist of the Heroine’s Journey is different. The qualities which set them apart are the same ones that allow them to think outside of this rigid binary and ultimately break that cycle. In the course of their growth, the main character learns to create a new, better world not by vanquishing a villain who represents the failures of the old one, but by healing the wounds those failures created. 

Kairi said it best in Kingdom Hearts III that Sora’s journey is about helping people, many of whom he’s never met before. This is significant because the protagonist breaking out of the cycle has commonly taken the form of learning to solve problems with compassion and understanding instead of violence and punishment[1]. The main character cannot improve the world around them by simply killing the villain and calling it a day. In order to achieve meaningful change they need to help the people who have been hurt by this rigid cycle. And as the contrast between Sora’s attitudes towards the dying Organization members in Kingdom Hearts II and III demonstrates, that includes the same villains he’s fighting against. Yes, even Xehanort.

Because when you look back and think about it, every non-Disney antagonist in the Kingdom Hearts series is shown to be motivated by the pain and/or trauma inflicted on them by the worldview of their peers and mentors, which they then took out on the people around them. 

Marluxia as Lauriam was powerless to stop Strelitzia’s murder, and then he lost all memory of his past when he arrived in the present from the Age of Fairy Tales. That knowledge casts his behavior in Chain of Memories as someone trying to control the people around him as a proxy to feel like he has control over his own life[3]. 

Ienzo’s words when Ansem returns in Kingdom Hearts III[4] and the fact that he was a child [5] when Radiant Garden fell[6] paint his words toward Riku in Chain of Memories about the latter destroying his home as Zexion projecting the repressed guilt over the destruction of his home onto Riku. 

Saix’s cruelty toward Roxas and Xion in 358/2 Days is revealed in Kingdom Hearts III to have been driven by jealousy towards Axel and the feeling that he was being abandoned and replaced[7].  

All of these characters’ villainous actions can be traced back to the influence of the mentor figures of their generation. Marluxia’s survivor’s guilt over Strelitzia’s death is the result of her killer attempting to defy the manipulations of the Master of Masters. Saix was gaslit about his own humanity by Xemnas and Xigbar for over a decade with Xemnas’ manipulation and whatever effect Norting had on him on top of that. Ienzo’s conversation with Ansem in Kingdom Hearts III indicates that he didn’t fully understand what Ansem’s adult apprentices were doing around him when they were conducting their experiments, and the flashback at the start of Dream Drop Distance suggests he had not become a Nobody of his own volition. 

Xehanort too, is someone who was hurt by this destructive cycle. The things he indicates he saw during his world tour - people refusing to acknowledge the darkness in their own hearts and allowing it to grow [8] - showed him the consequences of repressing one’s darkness and negative emotions as he and Eraqus were taught. He wanted to change this, but he was still so entrenched in that system that the best he could think of ultimately amounted to the same rigid viewpoint but flipped so that darkness was on top. 

The merciless death many fans felt Xehanort deserved would only reinforce the “darkness evil, light good” worldview that Riku’s redemption arc was built on overturning. In order to truly heal the wounds created by the rigid belief system that made the villain who they are, the protagonist needs to be able to extend their compassion and sympathy even to their greatest enemies, or else it fundamentally breaks the narrative. The idea that there should be limits or conditions on such compassion is exactly the kind of mentality that led Eraqus to try and kill Terra and Ventus in Birth by Sleep. It doesn’t mean the main characters will ever forgive the villain(s) for what they’ve done, but that they are choosing to let go. To focus their energy on self-care and rebuilding, instead of more violence and more destruction[2].

Regardless of how individual fans feel about it, Xehanort being treated with dignity in his final moments needed to happen in order to show Sora’s growth. If Kingdom Hearts III had given Xehanort a violent demise like some of us wanted, it would have been a betrayal of the Heroine’s Journey’s major themes. Treating opponents with sympathy and compassion is a critical element of the framework, and is necessary in order to allow the protagonist to break free of the destructive mentality that created the story’s overarching conflict in the first place. 

Sources:

[1] “The Heroine with a Thousand Faces”; June 13, 2019;

https://www.teampurplelion.com/heroine-with-a-thousand-faces/

[2] “On Love and Lions Part 1: An Analysis of Love in VLD”; February 14, 2020. https://www.teampurplelion.com/on-love-and-lions-1/

[3] Analysis of Marluxia by @mlhelena;  https://mlhelena.tumblr.com/post/185211447430/thought-that-ive-been-nursing-for-a-while

[4] Kingdom Hearts III. Square Enix, 2019. 

[5] Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep. Square Enix, 2010.

[6] Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance. Square Enix, 2012. 

[7] Concerning Atypical Heart Regrowth in Nobodies: Saïx Case Study by dicax; June 23, 2019.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19329115

[8] Kingdom Hearts III Re:Mind. Square Enix, 2020. 

[luxusnoname]

A Long Forgotten Ache, Pt.1 (Xigbar/Vexen)

Summary: Being a Nobody is easy without all of those messy emotions weighing you down. Still, Xigbar gets to thinking and maybe he misses it a little. Or, rather, he misses someone. But he never goes about things in a straightforward way. The first half of a two part fic.

Characters/Pairings: Xigbar/Vexen

Rating: T (swears, fighting & some blood, nbd)

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Part two is technically done, but I definitely want to do some quality edits before posting. Both parts were actually written last year with inktober prompts, but ended up fitting together nicely as one story. I made a lot of improvements to this portion and want the continuation to be on that same level. So in the meantime… Happy 2/4 ^^

~~~

A Long Forgotten Ache

When Xemnas asked Xigbar who he wanted with him on a recon mission in a world with no magic, the freeshooter was perhaps too quick to volunteer Vexen. He could tell that answer wasn’t exactly what the Superior expected.

“Are you… Quite sure? You wouldn’t rather have Xaldin or Lexaeus accompany you?”

“Look, I know he’s the resident egghead and not exactly our best fighter, but he’s the only one around here with an eye as sharp as mine. Well, almost.” Xigbar grinned and pointed to his good eye to reinforce the point. “Yeah the other two have brute strength, but I could really use his intuition on this one.”

That, of course, was only part of the reason. Vexen was also incredibly fun to agitate. The rise he could get out of him wasn’t the same as it used to be, but it was better than anyone else in the Organization. Plus, they hadn’t spent much time together since becoming Nobodies. He would lie if he wasn’t a little curious as to how much of Even was still left. But personal curiosity and entertainment didn’t make for a good argument, so he said nothing more.

Xemnas hummed to himself, considering. “I suppose that would work. But see to it that he’s capable of defending himself without his magic, should there be any difficulties on the mission. You’ll depart at the end of the week.”

Xigbar gave a flippant salute as he summoned a corridor to the academic’s lab. “You got it, boss.”

As expected, Vexen was less than pleased with Xigbar’s request. Something about his talents being best utilized for research, having no interest in a fruitless recon mission, and honestly Xigbar kinda stopped listening at that point because it turned into a full on laundry list of reasons why he had better things to do and he would not be wasting his time with this.

“See, but here’s the thing,” Xigbar cut in a few minutes into the scientist’s rant, knowing full well he’d be there all day otherwise.  “I’m not just asking you politely. These are orders straight from the top.”

Vexen sputtered, nearly dropping his beaker full of who knows what chemical. “Lord Xemnas himself picked me for this assignment?”

“Well, I made a case for you but yeah, boss man’s orders.”

Vexen finally turned from his experiment and narrowed his eyes at the freeshooter. “If you made a case for me, then I suppose my only way of getting out of this is to make a case against myself. Provided, of course, that’s an option.”

“Heh, you’re welcome to give it a shot,” Xigbar shrugged, “be my guest. But I really doubt he’s gonna budge on this one. I was pretty convincing.”

“We’ll see about that…”

In the next morning’s meeting, Vexen made his case. Or, rather, he tried to make his case. It had only been five minutes and most of the Organization was tuning out. Luxord shuffled and cut his deck, starting up another game of solitaire. Xaldin leaned back in his seat, appearing to nap with his eyes closed. Zexion rolled his eyes as the others quietly chatted amongst themselves. Eventually Xemnas cleared his throat, interrupting the academic and regaining the attention of the meeting.

“While your research is of remarkable importance to the Organization, so is this mission and every other mission we undertake. Do you mean to suggest that the orders I give are frivolous?”

“Of course not, but Lord Xemnas-”

The Superior shot him a withering glare that silenced him once and for all. “My word is final, Number IV. You are going on this mission and I’d rather be certain that you’re prepared for it. Whatever form that preparation takes is up to Xigbar.”

As Xemnas disappeared from the room, uncomfortable glances were exchanged among the remaining members before leaving to begin their own missions. Xigbar shot Vexen a smug grin, receiving an irritated huff in return.

After the meeting, the scientist pulled him aside in the Grey Area. He was slightly subdued after Xemnas’ scolding, but Xigbar could tell if he had emotions that he’d be fuming inside.

“While I believe our Superior has far too much confidence in you, I have no other choice but to comply. So how would you like to do this?”

His lips curled into a cheshire grin. “Meet me back here later tonight and I’ll brief you on the mission. Tomorrow morning, we’ll spar so I can test your readiness.”

Vexen gave no indication that he would comply as he stomped off into a corridor, but Xigbar knew he would show. He may grump and argue until he’s blue in the face, but he followed orders. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him. About Even.

Xigbar caught himself smirking - no, smiling - at the thought of the academic’s Somebody name. Huh. Despite it all, maybe he hadn’t changed much himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning found Xigbar waiting for Vexen in the Hall of Empty Melodies. It was his favored room for training because of all the different ways he could manipulate it with his spatial powers, but he also found himself going there to organize his thoughts when his own room became too stifling. He perched himself on the balcony, one knee drawn nearly up to his chest and the other dangling over the edge.

It wasn’t often that Xigbar found himself pondering his past life. He was essentially still Braig, after all, just without all of those messy emotions. And boy had Braig been a mess. Drifting through life and never getting too attached to any person or place for long, bonds weren’t really his thing. It was strange when he found himself becoming one of the Apprentices. 

Ansem was never much more than his employer, to be honest. The man had taken him in, sure, but the guy was the king of Radiant Garden. To consider him a colleague would have been laughable. Really, he spent the most time with Dilan and Aeleus. They were two of the only people he’d ever considered friends. He got on their nerves and he knew it, but he never pushed it too far (though they might argue with that.) But they never got seriously upset with him. Not like Even.

Even. The academic was skeptical when Braig showed up. Understandably so, but did the cold shoulder really have to be so cold? It was no surprise that the man was a master of ice magic; everything about him was frigid, from his stuffy posture to the very air around him. But it only made Braig want to get closer, to get past the ice and warm him up… 

Heh, now those were some thoughts he hadn’t had in a while. All in all, it hadn’t been too bad there at the end. He had coworkers and a routine and a life. A place to call home, despite never having asked for any of it.

And then he gave it all up.

Did he regret it? Sometimes.

There were moments, when they began falling to darkness, when he considered the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t meant for them to be caught up in everything, but then again, how could it have been avoided? He never once went back on his word to the old man, but he’d be lying if he said there were never nights where the guilt gnawed at him, moments he looked at Ienzo and saw a boy that would never truly grow up because of him.

But that was the old life. He stirred out of his thoughts and assessed the room below him. Vexen wasn’t there yet, but would be showing up soon. Xigbar dropped down onto the main platform. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this fight, but he was hoping to be surprised. 

Even had never been the physical type, relying on his magic for self defense. But there was a noticeable difference between Even and Vexen. Despite lacking emotion, there was something about him that suggested fire beneath the Nobody’s icy surface. Or so Xigbar hoped.

“Apologies for being late, I didn’t want to be here.”

Xigbar smirked at the approaching scientist. “About time. I was starting to think you got cold feet and stood me up. You ready?”

“If I have to be,” he grumbled.

With a nod, Xigbar unzipped and shrugged off his coat. The freeshooter still had the standard uniform of black shirt and pants on underneath, but made a show of dramatically rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He snuck a look at Vexen, who was watching with no expression save for a raised eyebrow.

“You failed to mention we’d be disrobing for this,” he muttered, his eyes drifting up and down Xigbar’s form. The freeshooter wondered if he was conscious of it or not.

“C’mon, you call this disrobing?” Xigbar barked out a laugh, peeling off his gloves and throwing them down. “Don’t tell me you’re going commando under there.”

“Well of course not, but-”

“It does wonders for mobility, trust me.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Vexen grumbled to himself as he shed his own jacket. Xigbar couldn’t recall ever having seen the man’s arms bared before - well, mostly bared. His broad shoulders had always been obvious, so it shouldn’t have been too surprising when the scientist wasn’t as scrawny as he’d imagined. Of course, Xigbar couldn’t really talk because apart from Zexion, he was definitely the smallest of the Apprentices in both stature and mass. He gave an appreciative nod before getting into a fighting stance.

Vexen copied the motion as best he could. His form was a little loose, suggesting the lack of experience that Xigbar had expected. But that’s why they were there, right?

He knew the answer before he even asked, but gave Vexen the benefit of the doubt anyway. “You ever done this before, Snowflake?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I don’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter, now do I?”

“Damn straight. After I’m through with you though? You’ll be more than ready for the mission.”

At Vexen’s nod, Xigbar gave a silent countdown. Three. Two. One. Without giving Vexen a moment to think, he lunged and closed the distance between them, hoping to catch him off guard with a swift uppercut. To his surprise, the blow was deflected with relative ease. He took a step back to reassess his opponent.

“Well well well,” he huffed, “I should’ve known the nerd could block a punch. I was gonna take it easy on ya, but now…”

Trailing off, he moved back in and followed up with a series of hooks and jabs, all of which Vexen managed to block. And with each passing second, each failed attempt, the scientist was looking more and more smug. He knew the freeshooter had underestimated him.

As they circled each other, the room silent save for their labored breaths and footfalls, Xigbar grew impatient. He hadn’t managed to land a single hit yet. It wasn’t as if he’d gone into the sparring match with the express purpose of beating on the academic, but he just didn’t understand how he was doing so well. Sure, Vexen wasn’t exactly firing back, instead focusing all of his efforts on defense, but Xigbar was no stranger to a fist fight. So what gives?

And it was then that he remembered Vexen’s signature wasn’t a weapon at all, but a shield. Well, he’d just have to give him something he couldn’t block that easily. He locked eyes with the academic before lunging again.

As expected, Vexen was ready for the attack, dodging the first hit and continuing to deflect the rest. After a few more unsuccessful blows, Xigbar saw his opening and took it. The freeshooter threw all of his weight into a tackle, grabbing the man’s wrists as they both went down.

He sat up, slightly dazed and his own body sore from the fall, but kept the scientist’s arms pinned to the ground. And the momentary look of shock on Vexen’s face - if he could feel shock, anyway - was well worth it. The scientist looked down to see Xigbar straddling his waist and shot him a sneer.

“I didn’t realize this was a grappling match as well,” he hissed between shallow breaths.

Xigbar gave a toothy grin. “Can’t have you being the only one full of surprises, now can I?”

He kept Vexen pinned a few seconds longer, looking down at him. The academic was a mess of blonde hair and faux anger, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as he caught his breath. He glared at Xigbar, waiting for him to say or do something. Daring him to make a move. And so without a second thought, Xigbar dipped his head and pressed his lips to Vexen’s in a fleeting kiss.

Or, what was meant to be fleeting. The kiss was unexpectedly returned, Vexen’s mouth parting with a quiet ‘mmph’ before falling into sync with Xigbar’s. Something sparked in the sharpshooter’s chest - a long forgotten ache, right where his non existent heart should be. He pulled back, unable to keep his jaw from going slack as he stared down at Vexen. The man’s face was a mirror of his own, almost as if he was equally surprised at the reciprocation. Unless… he felt it too? Xigbar almost thought he saw color beginning to tinge the man’s cheeks when-

CRACK.

In his moment of distraction, Vexen had freed his right hand and swung with all of his remaining strength, landing a solid blow against the freeshooter’s face and effectively knocking him off.

Xigbar clutched at his bleeding and likely broken nose, eye wide with shock. His breath came in gasps as he stared at Vexen. “… the fuck?”

Vexen stood up and grabbed his jacket, furiously brushing his hair back into place. His face was definitely turning red and for a moment Xigbar could swear he was looking at a flustered Even, not the heartless Nobody that had just decked him.

“I’ll see you on the day of the mission, and not a moment before.” He gave the sharpshooter one last glare before disappearing into a dark corridor.

Xigbar couldn’t even think straight as he tried to process everything that just happened. The fight was over quicker than expected. Shit, had he technically lost? Did he just get his ass handed to him by Vexen? All because of some… stupid tingling in his chest that shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. Or at least, it hadn’t been in a long time. Why had he done that?

He laid down, head thunking against the floor as he clutched at his still bleeding nose. Well, maybe it wasn’t all bad. Vexen wouldn’t be telling anyone about their little match after that stunt, so at least his dignity was spared. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

In private, Xermnas had confided in him that regrowth of one’s heart was theoretically possible. It was gone now, but he still felt the ghost sensations of a pulse, the flickering of a flame that had long gone out. Maybe there was something to that theory after all. Not that he’d be reporting this back to their Superior any time soon. Or ever.

Instead, it might be worth it to look into the phenomenon on his own. And if he played his cards right, Vexen might willingly help him. He allowed himself a chuckle before closing his eye. After all, research was easier with a partner.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 16

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Chapter summary:  Now that Even is human, he continues to attempt to mend the bonds of those closest to him.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

But this determination doesn’t make it easy. There are nightmares now, memories. It’s still hard to be around fires, to strike his Bunsen burners. Any noise resembling a snap incapacitates him; Demyx unknowingly does it once in casual conversation and unexpectedly finds himself caring for a distraught Even.

Humanity’s sharpened things, good and bad. He feels more and less able. But at least there’s consistency. At least he can get himself out of bed.

He assists Ienzo as much as he can with the boy’s memorial work. Offers advice, counsels about acidity of soil, gives whatever he can. He helps Aeleus too, in his repairs. It is soothing, to do things with his hands, even though he’s mostly useless in that regard.

He tries to mend things with Dilan.

It’s hard to say what the man does. Unlike the others, he’s not quite so transparent. He disappears for hours at a time, claims it’s guard duty: “someone has to do it.” But is it?

So Even looks for him. He does not bother trying Dilan’s phone; he knows he will not answer. He finds him in a covered courtyard, surrounded by beheaded training dummies, but he’s actually sitting, meditating. Even turns to leave.

“You’ve already disrupted the peace,” Dilan says, his eyes shut. “What is it you want, Even?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I can recognize the sound of your gait at fifty meters. Any of yours, actually.” He opens his eyes and smirks. “I did receive extensive training, you know.”

“I suppose I... would like to hash things out. As it were.”

“Must you?”

“I’m afraid so. We’re stuck here for the foreseeable future. I’d rather there not be more tension than is necessary.”

He scowls.

“Is this really about that impact statement?”

Dilan sighs. He points to the ground in front of him. It’s rather unbecoming, but Even sits in the dirt, folding his legs under him. “We’ve all prattled on in our own ways about guilt,” he says. “No point going into it further.”

“Yet?”

“...Yet.” His lip curls. “I spend a lot of time in this town. Cataloging, observing. I know Ienzo means well, and yes, a memorial is only right. But… the psychological wounds of this town… have scarred unevenly. Things need to rip open, to heal well. I fear in that pain… we might get more than we bargained for. Revenge. Ostracization. I like to believe it’s not myself I’m worried about.”

“...The boys?”

“...Quite.” He knots his fingers. “Funny. I never thought I would give a wit about Demyx.”

“Me either. But here we are.”

“He’s changed. Gives me hope that perhaps I can too. A vain hope, but hope nonetheless.”

“If he can, anyone can.”

He chuckles. Then, sobering. “Tell me something, Even.”

“Of course.”

“How did you decide to go against the New Organization?”

He bides his time a little. Picks some lint off of the knee of his slacks. “Guilt. Simply. I saw Ienzo--whole, human, reeling--and it all came crashing in. Without the darkness, the pull on my mind was not so absolute. As I was recovering… Xigbar came to me. Offered me the job. How could I say no? After all, I was nothing but loyal in the past. Isa caught wind of it and helped me plan.”

“So simply?”

“So simply.” He smiles. “Dilan, I love convolution as much as the next person, but it’s not always the best choice.”

“All I did was sit here.”

“You were incredibly injured. As I’ve heard.”

His jaw twitches. “Sora is a brutal adversary. That’s all I care to say on the matter. My bones still ache when it rains.”

There’s a few moments of silence. Even looks at the tile floor, the dirt. “Dilan, I… wish things were not so difficult between us. But I’ve no insight into what you’ve been thinking, or feeling. I don’t know how to fix it. We’re alike, you and I. Prideful. Furious at the drop of a hat.”

“But your love for Ienzo helped you through. I’m afraid I have no such bonds. I love the boy, of course, but I had no patience for him when it mattered. Even before I was a Nobody… well. He was a pet. A very intelligent one, but still. I don’t think I saw him as human.”

He blinks. “No?”

“Well, a person of no consequence. A thing I could set aside when I was done with him. But you once had something outside of your career. I never did.”

This is news to him. “Never? No family? No… beloved?”

“One tends to be ostracized when one is different,” Dilan says simply.

Even wants to ask him what he means; but he also fears this is too personal. Yet, they’ve known each other twenty-some years. What is too personal? “Unfortunately.”

“I never made the time for anything other than the most brief affair. And I thought I understood love.” He chuckles. “We all thought we knew everything.”

Even smiles. “The older I get, the less I feel I know.”

His smirk fades, though. “When we all returned, I found the notion of you challenging Ansem to be frankly absurd. But I should’ve listened to what you had to say. You’ve grown; he rots. You’ve taken an active role, he waffles. He’ll give the boys meaningless words and pats on the head, and true, words were never your strong suit. But it’s you they feel comfortable coming to, in the middle of the night.”

“No need to stroke my ego.”

“As if I would?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I need to impress you, Even? You no longer have power over me.”

“It is liberating, to let go of such meaningless things,” he admits.

“I’ve been doing more than beheading sacks of sand,” he says slowly.

“Like?”

“I’m surveying the town. Seeing what needs to be fixed, drafting plans as to  how that might be possible. I hope to present such work to whoever might be in charge--whether it’s that cursed committee, or an actual leader.” Dilan meets Even’s eyes. “Radiant Garden might look pretty, but it’s all rather rough. Cobbled together. Won’t exist in the long term unless infrastructure is in place.”

“That is very humble work.”

“It is nice, to use this part of myself again. Reminds me of who I used to be.” A small smile. “That report… made me realize all I’ve done to this town, and many others. I’d kept that guilt at an arm’s length.”

“And you became defensive.” Even nods. “A natural response.”

“A foolish one.” He scoffs. He points at Even. “Easier to blame you than to actually deal with it.”

He laughs a little.

“In which case, I should be thanking you. A needed wakeup call. Along with Ansem’s… difficulties. We’ve spoken a little, since then. It is hard to be gracious with him.”

“You were never the submissive type. But… help must be wanted.”

“...Yes.” He looks down. “Even, I do believe we have more in common than we thought.”

“I should hope so.”

---

But all that happens isn’t completely good.

He’s elbow-deep in distillation when his phone rings, deep in his pocket. Usually when someone calls him instead of merely messaging, it’s all business. (In fact, he can’t remember ever receiving a call just to chit-chat.) He sees it’s Demyx. “Boy, I’m in the middle of something. What do you want?”

His voice on the line is very strained when he says, “I think I’ve been poisoned.”

Even freezes, almost dropping the test tube he has in clamps. He sets it down delicately. “Describe your symptoms to me.”

“It just feels…” He’s slurring a little, and if Even doesn’t know better he’d say the boy is drunk. “Burning, my muscles are all tight. It feels like…”

“Come down here at once. No, better yet, I’ll have Dilan get you. Turn on your location.” A handy, if unsettling, feature of the phones. His heart is starting to beat fast and hard. He can’t have the boy collapsing on him--not again. As soon as he convinces Dilan to go intercept him, he digs through his stores for antidote, and then further compounds to build one, should he need to.

They’ve just been talking about revenge.

Why Demyx? But then, Even realizes he’s something of the public face of the castle, doing what he does. The townsfolk must not realize he was never an apprentice.

Before he can consider this further, he sees Dilan sidling in with the boy in his arms. He gestures to the cot. “Here. Set him over here.”

Demyx’s eyes are rolling a bit. “He’s been slipping in and out of consciousness,” Dilan explains. “Has been for about ten minutes.”

Never good. He takes the antidote, rolls up Demyx’s sleeve, and stabs the boy. No time to fuss with prepping if he’s that far gone. His eyes seem to come into better focus. “There you are.” He starts an IV, properly this time. “How do you feel?”

He’s dazed, and sweaty, and from the touch alone Even can feel the fever. His heartbeat is erratic. “Hurts,” he says.

“Where?” Can this help?

“Everywhere,” he mumbles.

Not lucid enough to recount what’s going on. Well. Even can solve problems. The generic antidote will keep him alive, negate the worst damage. He simply has to act fast. “I’m sorry, I’m hesitant to give you anything while we’re trying to get you to metabolize this nasty business. I’m going to take some blood, alright? Let’s see if I can’t figure out what this is. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep a steady antidote drip.”

“‘Kay,” he says. The word is barely intelligible. He’s shivering, rather violently. Likely had they found him much later he would’ve fallen into convulsions. Even has trouble getting a vein, but manages to get some blood at last. He wraps the boy in a blanket and rushes everything over to his workstation.

“I should tell Ienzo,” he says. If that doesn’t get Demyx’s attention, nothing will.

It works; he comes around, partially. “No. I’ll do it after.”

"You're very ill. You'll probably be very ill for the next few days." He examines the sample. Even isn’t sure whether or not to be relieved that he can see the issue right away. “Nasty business” doesn’t quite cover it; it’s frankly a miracle that Demyx is as stable as he is. Neurotoxins are always frightening. As quickly as he can, he starts building onto the base antidote.

“That bad?” he asks. Good. Keeping him talking is good.

"I'm still doing research. But you're lucky you recognized it and got to me when you did." He digs into his toxicology thesaurus, searching for the molecule; he knows he’s seen it before. It takes much too long before he has something workable, something body safe. In the midst of all this, he hears, “Even?”

His head snaps up. “Yes?”

He’s still breathing hard, but it’s not quite as labored as before. Good signs. "Will I die if I go to sleep?"

"No, you're rebounding enough. Get some rest. You'll need it."

He’s just distilling it all down when Dilan returns from notifying the cavalry.

“How’d he take it?” Even asks.

“About as well as you’d think. Looked like I’d kicked him in the groin. I had to all but restrain him from coming down here himself.”

“Ienzo’s knowledge of chemistry is not nearly up to par for something like this.” He watches, tense, to see how the serum will react to the poison on the plate. “His anxiety is much too potent.”

“And Demyx?”

“Holding steady. Asleep.” It’s all breaking down; what Even needs to see. He draws a couple of milliliters into a syringe. "It was quite alarming to see. I haven't yet gotten the story. I think you may be right, Dilan. Someone clearly has ire for us." He takes Demyx’s hand and injects the serum into the port; the boy blinks stiffly.

“What…”

"A more specific antidote. Go back to sleep."

He seems more aware now, though still slightly drunk. “What was it?”

Even sits next to him. It’s his body; he has a right to know. "A type of neurotoxin that causes your cells to stop accepting water. Essentially, it would've been a very quick, very painful death from dehydration. Not to worry, I've made a serum which seems to be combatting it. Your vitals are already stabilizing."

Even can’t read the expression on his face. "She must've known."

The perpetrator? “Who?”

"The person who did this. About my old powers--" He tries to sit up and flinches in pain; Even pushes him back down.

"Don't move. I figured you, of all people, would understand this part of palliative care."

His stress level seems to be rising. Even needs to de-escalate; he doesn’t want to risk giving Demyx anything else while his liver grapples with all this poison. "Why else would she use a poison to dry me out?"

"Who?" he repeats. A name, a description--

"The woman, the one who--" He goes very pale, his eyes watering. "I'm going to throw up."

Even gives him a wastebasket to be sick into; Dilan flinches just the slightest. This is actually a good thing. He’s getting rid of it.

Wearily, Demyx looks up. "She gave me tea. After I healed her. I thought the cut was too clean, that she acted weird--"

He sighs. "You gave her the benefit of the doubt. As any competent physician would." He pauses. "Do you remember where she lived? We should let the committee know. The last thing we need is another maniac on the loose."

He lays back down. It takes a moment, but finally he begins telling them; Dilan writes it all down in a text, committee-bound. There’s a chilling detail in it; the boy must be reflexively calling upon his reconnaissance training. He describes a home in the residential district, one that’s slowly being repopulated. He actually talks himself to sleep. Even gives him more of the serum. Even rechecks his vitals, notes that he’s stabilizing well. “He’ll pull through just fine,” he says. “But it’s going to be a tough few days. We may as well put him in his own bed.”

“We?” Dilan mutters. “Leon got back to me. They’re investigating.” Dilan hefts the boy back in his arms, carefully managing all the fluid. Even takes more of the medicine with them. It does give him a level of anxiety, to give him so much of something literally untested, but the boy seems to be responding well. The regular stuff won’t cut it.

When they arrive to the apartment, Ienzo’s frantic. He’s actually unable to speak, for the first time Even’s witnessed in a long while. It takes a beat to adjust. “He’s recovering well,” Even assures him. “It’ll be… unpleasant, for a while, but he should pull through without much trouble.”

He nods once. They settle Demyx into bed, let him rest. Even makes Ienzo some tea. The whole place is neat as a pin, the selection of brews rather… eclectic, most of them Even’s never heard of. He looks over his shoulder, towards the bed, and sees Ienzo hovering over Demyx, his hand outstretched--

“Don’t touch him without gloves,” Even says. “He’s sweating bullets and I’m not sure if it’s communicable that way.”

He looks startled.

“You wittering over him won’t help. Come sit down.”

Ienzo obeys. He’s utterly defeated. Something about this all has broken his spirit, not that Even can blame him. He gives the boy the mug, which has an odd orangey smell; Ienzo wrinkles his nose a little.

“Well I’ve no idea what you wanted. Doesn’t help you fancy yourself a gourmand.”

The joke doesn’t faze him. He takes out his phone. Do they know who did it?

“Not yet. They’re investigating. Despite it all, Demyx actually provided a fair amount of detail. Not sure what could take that child out.”

This is the wrong thing to say; Ienzo’s eyes narrow.

“That was… tactless. Excuse me.” He clears his throat. “So this still happens to you, then?”

He exhales, a heavy sound. Less so since I’ve grown, but needless to say I was NOT expecting Dilan to show up and tell me my partner was poisoned. It will pass. In time. He pauses, his thumbs hesitating over the bright screen. Dilan mentioned people seeking revenge--I was far too naive. I thought everyone would just want to move on-- His eyes are watering as he types, and he makes some spelling errors. If anyone should be targeted, it’s me. He’s innocent in this.

“They don’t know that.” Even squeezes his knee. “Perhaps this is just one lunatic, and it’s a coincidence.”

Despite the fact that he’s crying, Ienzo’s eyes flash. He begins typing--Do you really fucking believe that--before deleting it, though Even has always been good at reading upside down or backwards.

“Child, I guess not. You know comforting does not come naturally to me.”

Another sigh. I suppose I should thank you.

“As if I would let him die?”

Sometimes I feel I rather take you for granted.

Even rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter me. Least I could do.”

I--a significant pause here. Forgot what the real you was like.

Even blinks. “You mean--”

You were Vexen most of my life. Hard, calculating.

He scoffs. “And now?”

You care again.

“I am working very hard on that. As you all blather on--it is difficult, to be vulnerable, to allow tenderness. I’m afraid my pride had to take a mighty beating before I began to accept the change.”

He smiles tiredly. Well I nearly died resisting mine.

“Ah. Don’t remind me.” He gets up. “I’m going to dose your miscreant again. You still want him around, yes?”

His turn to roll his eyes. Even puts his gloves back on and approaches Demyx. His color is a bit better, but he still looks quite ill, and is still sweating. He gives him another push of the antidote.

For a few hours he and Ienzo sit, waiting. The little cat, barely bigger than Even’s palm, hops up and kneads Ienzo’s lap. Ienzo pets it idly. They both answer some messages from the committee, from the others. Demyx seems dead to the world, but best not to disturb him. Even drafts a report of what’s happened; in all this, Aerith arrives, likely informed by the committee. She seems sad; but not at all surprised. Wordlessly, she crosses over to him and begins her own examination. After a few minutes of this, she joins them at the couch.

“He’s breaking it down,” she says in a low voice. “Whatever you made is working about as well as anything I could’ve done. Just keep him hydrated. He’ll feel like shit, but he’ll be fine.” She crosses her arms. “It’s still all… so disturbing to me.”

“No news?” Ienzo asks hoarsely.

“Nothing yet.” She nods once. “I’m going to go see what I can do. This is kind of personal now. He’s my student. I’m supposed to be responsible for him.”

“Like you could’ve guessed what would happen,” Ienzo mumbles.

“This has all been rather surprising,” Even adds. “Our lives are simply not allowed to be peaceful.”

She shrugs. “Let me know how he’s doing, okay?”

After what seems like ages, Demyx finally stirs. Ienzo races over to him and, completely ignoring Even’s last warning, pulls him into an embrace. He knows the truth of their relationship, but it’s odd to see it in motion, to see the actual touch, innocent as it may be. “You scared a few years off my life. Easily. How do you feel?”

His voice is scratchy when he speaks. Even is unsure if he should give them space, or intervene. “Oh, wonderful. I could run a marathon.”

Even appraises the boy, finds his pulse stable. They get him cleaned up, change the sheets, get him back in bed. He’s certain from here Ienzo can handle the basics, and so he tactfully leaves. If he’s being honest, he’s also reeling.

It could’ve been any of them--Ienzo. And it could’ve been so much worse.

This has all exhausted him. He tries to eat the dinner Aeleus made. “...Revenge,” is all Even says when the man enters the room without turning. “What do you think of it?”

But it isn’t Aeleus’s voice that speaks. “Not nearly worth what it costs one.”

Even’s head snaps up. There’s Ansem, his ragged red scarf around his neck, but at least he’s finally trimmed his beard. “I thought you were Aeleus.”

“Not quite.”

He tries to straighten his spine. “If he hadn’t had the foresight to realize what was happening to him, he likely would’ve perished.”

“You complain, but I think you care for the boy.” He smiles. There’s an emptiness to it.

Even turns. “You said you sought revenge on us. On the Organization. Did you mean it so literally?”

“You know me. Ever afraid to get my hands dirty.” He shrugs. “If I had been faced with one of you in the flesh… I’m not sure what would have happened.”

“Do you still feel angry?” Even isn’t sure why he asks.

“I do not get to slowly come into my own like all of you,” he says. “Rather… my self is linear.”

“I’m afraid you’re not making much sense.”

“Being a Nobody cuts one off from the world. I tried to do so voluntarily, with little success. Undoing all that is not nearly so… seamless.”

Even tuts. “It isn’t seamless for me either.”

“...No."

"You used to be so certain."

"As were you. Odd how it happens. All humanity does is make things less clear."

Even frowns. "You think so?"

"...That's my hypothesis, anyway."

He snorts. "Some sound science you have there."

Ansem shrugs. "What do you think of it?"

"Since I've been human…" It takes work to find the words. "The word that comes to mind is "determined." It is a wholeness. Not to say I haven't been suffering the… psychological consequence of it all. Ienzo says I care again. I suppose that is apt. But it all takes some practice."

"...I see. Did you… feel anything?"

"As a Nobody?" He snorts. "Hardly. As you said. Cut off from the world, and all in it." He feels as though he's not saying anything of substance. "Self-forgiveness is… a process. To put it mildly."

Ansem nods slowly. "And have you begun?"

Even blinks. "I… like to think so." It's a realization. "If I don't--"

"What is the point?"

"Precisely." The air is oddly tender. He swallows. "And yourself?"

"It's all so nebulous--"

"What holds you back?" He's not angry, he's just tired. "Your son adores you, and you have three men falling over themselves for your forgiveness. If that isn't external validation, I don't know what is."

Ansem seems startled by this.

Even stands. "I should like to go check on Demyx."

---

Where to go from here?

Nothing he says will have an effect on Ansem. That much is clear. The fool is stuck in his own head despite the hands reaching for him. Ienzo, Even, Demyx. But yet… the thought of giving up on him makes Even vaguely nauseous. Why? Ansem surely gave up on him, on them.

He sits writing a report about Demyx's poisoning. Admittedly it feels good to know this serum helped him, did some good. One life saved. Hundreds to go before he gets back to zero. Thousands.

It doesn't work like that, does it?

He's considering this when he hears a knock at his door. "Enter," he says wearily.

Ansem. "Are you busy?"

Even considers his notebook. "That depends if you have anything interesting to say. Waffling exhausts me."

He nods once. He still looks a bit grizzled. "May I sit?"

"If you must."

He does. "I considered what you said."

"Oh, thank you."

The sarcasm is ignored. "You feel you are who you're meant to be?"

"...Getting there. I suppose. Better than I was." He sets the notebook aside. "What would it take for you to forgive yourself? Emotionally, materially."

"You truly want to know? It's not a barb?"

He nods.

For a moment his eyes flicker back and forth in the middle distance, thinking. "I wish I could be proven wrong."

"About what?"

"Myself. All this. I suppose I want to be told it's not my fault." A frustrated sigh. "But is it? Who gets to decide?"

"Not us, surely," Even says. It's odd to realize. Of course they can't make these decisions; they can barely determine right from wrong. "So why waste your time thinking about it?"

"Not us." He bobs his head.

"One supposes it could all be fate," he adds.

"That we're still alive?"

Even nods.

"You mentioned this before." He shakes his head and then leans forward on his knees. His body seems to be weighing him down. "Where did you begin?"

"I tried to start with others. But this change didn't take until I decided to begin with myself. Do you want that? Don't consider what everyone else thinks. What do you think? Do you want to change?"

A tremulous silence. Then, "Yes."

"That's the first step, then."

He nods once. "Even?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

The phrase is so absurd; he snorts. "Right. Fat lot of good I ever did you."

"You want to save me. That means something now."

"...Don't make me regret it."