The Dichotomy Between Me and Me: Prologue
I've finally got round to editing and uploading what I spent a lot of time on in November. Various warnings for this fic - please check before reading.
Title: The Dichotomy Between Me and Me
Rating: M
Characters: Saïx, Xemnas, Marluxia, Xigbar, Axel, Larxene
Pairings: Xemnas/Saïx, Xemnas/Fem!Saïx, Marluxia/Saïx, Axel/Larxene
Summary: Saïx lives in two realities. In one, he is an empty shell of a person - a Nobody - searching for his heart. In another, she is a lonely housewife who, post-fugue, is trying to remember who she is, while her emotions run riot and out of control. When Saïx's element of the moon pulls their realities together, what will each Saïx learn from the other, and which one is better off?
Warnings: Genderswitch fic - meaning that Saïx has a lot of screentime as a woman. Also instances of violence, strong language and disturbing themes throughout. Proceed with caution.
Disclaimer: Characters and settings are copyright to Square Enix.
~Prologue~
Squall Leonhart had never pulled over so fast. His body lurched as he slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left. “Hey!” he shouted, even before he had the car door open. He unbuckled his seatbelt and ran into the cool air of Lost Saint’s Bridge, hollering the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t do it!”
In retrospect, she didn’t look the type to jump at all. She appeared utterly convinced that she was feeding ducks at a pier on a hot summer’s day, as opposed to sitting on a bridge wall, inches away from a sharp drop to a rushing estuary in the middle of the night.
Squall held out his hands, palms on display. "Ma'am. You don't want to do that. Whatever problems you have, you can talk to someone about them. Come away from the wall. Come back this side."
He wasn't a policeman or a skilled negotiator, but he had her attention at least. She turned to reveal a deep wound between her eyes, a grisly scene of scarlet raindrops rolling down the blank pane of her face.
"I'll get you a doctor. And the police. Who did that to you? Did you have a fight with someone? Look, Ma’am, ending your life isn’t the answer to your problems. You’re going to hurt the people who love you and in any case, the drop’s not high enough to kill you. Come away from the wall. Talk to me, yeah?" He panted from the weight of endangered life that teetered on his shoulders. "Or tell me who you are, and I’ll try and get you home - or someplace else if that’s where you’re running from?”
She only had to turn back to watch the water’s edge as it lapped at concrete, and Squall realised he was asking the wrong questions. He caught her searching, leaning forwards and her head moving left and right, and then he approached her, as cautiously as walking across a tightrope.
“Did you drop something? Lose something?” She nodded. “Well,” he concluded, not unkindly, “there’s little chance of getting it back now.”
~o~
Detective Inspector Cloud Strife liked to do things by the book. Following the rules had got him this far up the career ladder; it was proof that it was the right thing to do.
“All I’m saying is that you’re too close,” he tried again. “If the case and the people are a goldfish bowl, you’re right up against the glass. Your perspective is skewed. You can't be impartial. You're going to overlook the implications, because you don't want them to be true."
But Sephiroth Butler let his reasoning bounce off him as though it was a crushable paper plane, the same way any criticism failed to leave a dent. He settled into his seat and began to sort through their case file. “There are implications, admittedly, but that’s all they are. Implications. Why not, for just a few minutes, forget about the fact the goldfish bowl is my brother’s family, and do our jobs?”
Cloud relented. He had no choice, really. They might both be Detective Inspectors, but Sephiroth had a flair for his job and had an annoying streak of success. He pretty much had a flair for everything, cleanly stepping over the potholes and bumps Cloud's inner self insisted on stumbling into, as if life was as smooth as his long silver hair. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Let’s go through the notes again. Several things bug me about this.”
“Agreed. Our case starts on 13th April, where Saix Butler was reported missing. The house showed no signs of struggle or intrusion. Contrarily, she took her bag and house keys, even went as far as locking the door and tucking her daughter into bed.”
He turned the page, bypassing the police’s record of Saix Butler. Cloud supposed that Sephiroth didn’t need to read up on his sister-in-law’s stats. “However, less than an hour ago, a computer analyst by the name of Squall Leonhart turned her into the station. So, after one month of failing to locate her, she suddenly shows up on a bridge. Not only that, she’s returned in a fugue state.”
"And there lies your problem," Cloud returned. He wasn't an expert in the study of the mind, but he knew the basics of a fugue state, enough to know that Sephiroth was way out of his league to be included in this case. Sephiroth wasn't going to be impartial. He couldn't be. "You know the interesting thing about a fugue state?" he said to his partner. "The interesting thing about a fugue state is that it's a defence mechanism. Typically, it's a response to severe trauma, where the brain shuts memories away, in order to prevent someone from reliving a certain event that will surely drive them crazy. You say they're just implications, but if she is responding to trauma, the first point of call is the family."
He leaned back in his seat, opting to not press any further, just to be polite, just to leave an implication.
~o~
Vexen Newcombe had only ever come across one other fugue case, and that was in a textbook fifteen years ago. If the world of psychiatry was a five star, four course meal, a fugue patient would be the mouth watering dessert at the end that every psychiatrist knew was there, but simply couldn't get to.
As with any other case of amnesia, conversation had to go at the patient's pace. Most of the time, Vexen had to humour her, listen to her prattle on, feign a laugh when she found random things funny; which in the short term was fine, but amnesiacs were delicate. Their thoughts were part of a thin, glass web; if too much pressure was applied, it'd break and become irretrievable. If Vexen asked the wrong question at the wrong time - and he knew that there were dozens of these opportunities - the amnesiac would panic and possibly break down.
The thing about Saix, about fugue patients in general, was that she couldn't remember anything. She had no idea who she was, where she came from, no knowledge of her past; she had no idea she had even been missing.
He scratched his head, trying to get thinking as he surveyed her in her hospital bed. "She'll have to be kept in a secure unit," he said, as Zexion patched up her face wound. "That cut might have been self inflicted."
"Or she was attacked," answered Zexion. He wheeled round on his stool, facing Vexen with an expression mere assistants shouldn't wear. "She might have been traumatised enough in a premeditated attack, and the fugue state is her response. Remember what she keeps saying, they sound like words someone fed to her-"
He made to say her famous words, when Saix sat up in bed and gave herself the honours. "I'm Saix, I'm number seven," she murmured. "I'm Saix, I'm number seven. I'm Saix, I'm number seven."
~o~
"How do you think he took it?" Xigbar said to Sephiroth, as soon as Xemnas politely excused himself and went to the bathroom to hurl.
"Quite well." Sephiroth leaned back in his chair and the new leather creaked from his weight. "He might need to hear the facts a few more times - just to fully comprehend - but I think that's him being sick with relief."
"Huh. Well aren't you the optimist."
Sephiroth rounded on him, but Xigbar was used to (and consequently immune to) his brother's piercing policeman look.
"What?" Xigbar said in defence. "Look, you know it as well as I do. We told Xemnas to prepare for the worst because when people go missing, there's rarely a happy ending. We were all expecting to recover a body, and in all honesty, I think that would have been kinder than bringing Saix to Xemnas and say, hey look, here's your wife, but she doesn't know who you are."
"She's alive," Sephiroth said, his voice layered with finality that most people respected. "That's more than we ever hoped for."
"Alive, yeah, but with no knowledge of who she is? That's like dangling a cake on a string and getting him to chase it, torturing him into coming close to what he can't have. Then again, that's not too different to how Saix treated him anyway."
"Watch your words," Sephiroth cautioned automatically.
Perhaps it was just his bitterness getting the better of him. After all, Xigbar was a sour old man stuck on disability benefits and doing crummy odd jobs for people who felt sorry for him, with little to show for his life. Xemnas was - until now - significantly better off than him.
"She'll recover. There aren't many cases of fugue, but they do generally point to memory recovery, at some point or another." Sephiroth glanced up at the stark white ceiling of the hospital waiting room, sighing.
Xigbar was about to argue that this meant nothing because there was no guarantee, but the gents' door opened just then and Xemnas emerged.
"Here." Sephiroth stood up and unscrewed the cap of a water bottle. "Take a seat. How are you feeling?"
Xemnas sat between his brothers, and as much as Xigbar resented that bitch Saix for putting them through this, he kept his mouth shut. "Am I allowed to see her?" Xemnas said after a few seconds, ignoring the question completely.
"I need you to acknowledge the situation you are in, before I let you." Sephiroth clasped and unclasped his hands, but that was about as far as his nerves showed. "You need to understand that the police will have questions for you and your family. You need to understand that Saix isn't who she used to be any more."
"I understand," Xemnas said, too quick for their liking.
"Do you?" Sephiroth said lightly. "Do you fully understand the implications of a fugue state? You're going to walk into Dr Newcombe's office there, and you're going to want to hug and kiss her. But you can't. You can't even hold a proper conversation with her, because she doesn't know who you are. The last eight years she's spent with you have been wiped from her memory, and every year before that, too. She has no comprehension that she's married, that she has children, that she lives in a nice four bedroom house in the middle of Radiant Garden. Are you sure you understand?"
"I'm sure." He sighed, scrabbling to some hair to tug at. "Just…just let me see my wife."
"She's not your wife," Xigbar corrected, his thoughts getting the better of him. "She's just a shell."
~x~
Saïx cannot pinpoint an exact time and location for meeting her for the first time. He finds it difficult to explain, even to himself. If he has to provide an explanation, though, he'd call it something akin to snapshots. Sometimes, he just wakes up, or comes back from a mission, or does something as simple as twirl a pen, and he remembers fragments of her life.
It doesn't feel like he's travelling. He is quite certain that his feet are firmly planted in this barren world, keen to seek existence on this particular plane. In stark contrast, his mind runs haywire, breaking through the complexities of stern reality and wishful thinking, until they become one and the same.
He's always had himself down as mad - and dignified enough to admit it - but he does think that dreaming up of another universe is pushing it somewhat.
Even so, now he doesn't feel so lonely in this heartless body.
Title: The Dichotomy Between Me and Me
Rating: M
Characters: Saïx, Xemnas, Marluxia, Xigbar, Axel, Larxene
Pairings: Xemnas/Saïx, Xemnas/Fem!Saïx, Marluxia/Saïx, Axel/Larxene
Summary: Saïx lives in two realities. In one, he is an empty shell of a person - a Nobody - searching for his heart. In another, she is a lonely housewife who, post-fugue, is trying to remember who she is, while her emotions run riot and out of control. When Saïx's element of the moon pulls their realities together, what will each Saïx learn from the other, and which one is better off?
Warnings: Genderswitch fic - meaning that Saïx has a lot of screentime as a woman. Also instances of violence, strong language and disturbing themes throughout. Proceed with caution.
Disclaimer: Characters and settings are copyright to Square Enix.
~Prologue~
Squall Leonhart had never pulled over so fast. His body lurched as he slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left. “Hey!” he shouted, even before he had the car door open. He unbuckled his seatbelt and ran into the cool air of Lost Saint’s Bridge, hollering the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t do it!”
In retrospect, she didn’t look the type to jump at all. She appeared utterly convinced that she was feeding ducks at a pier on a hot summer’s day, as opposed to sitting on a bridge wall, inches away from a sharp drop to a rushing estuary in the middle of the night.
Squall held out his hands, palms on display. "Ma'am. You don't want to do that. Whatever problems you have, you can talk to someone about them. Come away from the wall. Come back this side."
He wasn't a policeman or a skilled negotiator, but he had her attention at least. She turned to reveal a deep wound between her eyes, a grisly scene of scarlet raindrops rolling down the blank pane of her face.
"I'll get you a doctor. And the police. Who did that to you? Did you have a fight with someone? Look, Ma’am, ending your life isn’t the answer to your problems. You’re going to hurt the people who love you and in any case, the drop’s not high enough to kill you. Come away from the wall. Talk to me, yeah?" He panted from the weight of endangered life that teetered on his shoulders. "Or tell me who you are, and I’ll try and get you home - or someplace else if that’s where you’re running from?”
She only had to turn back to watch the water’s edge as it lapped at concrete, and Squall realised he was asking the wrong questions. He caught her searching, leaning forwards and her head moving left and right, and then he approached her, as cautiously as walking across a tightrope.
“Did you drop something? Lose something?” She nodded. “Well,” he concluded, not unkindly, “there’s little chance of getting it back now.”
~o~
Detective Inspector Cloud Strife liked to do things by the book. Following the rules had got him this far up the career ladder; it was proof that it was the right thing to do.
“All I’m saying is that you’re too close,” he tried again. “If the case and the people are a goldfish bowl, you’re right up against the glass. Your perspective is skewed. You can't be impartial. You're going to overlook the implications, because you don't want them to be true."
But Sephiroth Butler let his reasoning bounce off him as though it was a crushable paper plane, the same way any criticism failed to leave a dent. He settled into his seat and began to sort through their case file. “There are implications, admittedly, but that’s all they are. Implications. Why not, for just a few minutes, forget about the fact the goldfish bowl is my brother’s family, and do our jobs?”
Cloud relented. He had no choice, really. They might both be Detective Inspectors, but Sephiroth had a flair for his job and had an annoying streak of success. He pretty much had a flair for everything, cleanly stepping over the potholes and bumps Cloud's inner self insisted on stumbling into, as if life was as smooth as his long silver hair. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Let’s go through the notes again. Several things bug me about this.”
“Agreed. Our case starts on 13th April, where Saix Butler was reported missing. The house showed no signs of struggle or intrusion. Contrarily, she took her bag and house keys, even went as far as locking the door and tucking her daughter into bed.”
He turned the page, bypassing the police’s record of Saix Butler. Cloud supposed that Sephiroth didn’t need to read up on his sister-in-law’s stats. “However, less than an hour ago, a computer analyst by the name of Squall Leonhart turned her into the station. So, after one month of failing to locate her, she suddenly shows up on a bridge. Not only that, she’s returned in a fugue state.”
"And there lies your problem," Cloud returned. He wasn't an expert in the study of the mind, but he knew the basics of a fugue state, enough to know that Sephiroth was way out of his league to be included in this case. Sephiroth wasn't going to be impartial. He couldn't be. "You know the interesting thing about a fugue state?" he said to his partner. "The interesting thing about a fugue state is that it's a defence mechanism. Typically, it's a response to severe trauma, where the brain shuts memories away, in order to prevent someone from reliving a certain event that will surely drive them crazy. You say they're just implications, but if she is responding to trauma, the first point of call is the family."
He leaned back in his seat, opting to not press any further, just to be polite, just to leave an implication.
~o~
Vexen Newcombe had only ever come across one other fugue case, and that was in a textbook fifteen years ago. If the world of psychiatry was a five star, four course meal, a fugue patient would be the mouth watering dessert at the end that every psychiatrist knew was there, but simply couldn't get to.
As with any other case of amnesia, conversation had to go at the patient's pace. Most of the time, Vexen had to humour her, listen to her prattle on, feign a laugh when she found random things funny; which in the short term was fine, but amnesiacs were delicate. Their thoughts were part of a thin, glass web; if too much pressure was applied, it'd break and become irretrievable. If Vexen asked the wrong question at the wrong time - and he knew that there were dozens of these opportunities - the amnesiac would panic and possibly break down.
The thing about Saix, about fugue patients in general, was that she couldn't remember anything. She had no idea who she was, where she came from, no knowledge of her past; she had no idea she had even been missing.
He scratched his head, trying to get thinking as he surveyed her in her hospital bed. "She'll have to be kept in a secure unit," he said, as Zexion patched up her face wound. "That cut might have been self inflicted."
"Or she was attacked," answered Zexion. He wheeled round on his stool, facing Vexen with an expression mere assistants shouldn't wear. "She might have been traumatised enough in a premeditated attack, and the fugue state is her response. Remember what she keeps saying, they sound like words someone fed to her-"
He made to say her famous words, when Saix sat up in bed and gave herself the honours. "I'm Saix, I'm number seven," she murmured. "I'm Saix, I'm number seven. I'm Saix, I'm number seven."
~o~
"How do you think he took it?" Xigbar said to Sephiroth, as soon as Xemnas politely excused himself and went to the bathroom to hurl.
"Quite well." Sephiroth leaned back in his chair and the new leather creaked from his weight. "He might need to hear the facts a few more times - just to fully comprehend - but I think that's him being sick with relief."
"Huh. Well aren't you the optimist."
Sephiroth rounded on him, but Xigbar was used to (and consequently immune to) his brother's piercing policeman look.
"What?" Xigbar said in defence. "Look, you know it as well as I do. We told Xemnas to prepare for the worst because when people go missing, there's rarely a happy ending. We were all expecting to recover a body, and in all honesty, I think that would have been kinder than bringing Saix to Xemnas and say, hey look, here's your wife, but she doesn't know who you are."
"She's alive," Sephiroth said, his voice layered with finality that most people respected. "That's more than we ever hoped for."
"Alive, yeah, but with no knowledge of who she is? That's like dangling a cake on a string and getting him to chase it, torturing him into coming close to what he can't have. Then again, that's not too different to how Saix treated him anyway."
"Watch your words," Sephiroth cautioned automatically.
Perhaps it was just his bitterness getting the better of him. After all, Xigbar was a sour old man stuck on disability benefits and doing crummy odd jobs for people who felt sorry for him, with little to show for his life. Xemnas was - until now - significantly better off than him.
"She'll recover. There aren't many cases of fugue, but they do generally point to memory recovery, at some point or another." Sephiroth glanced up at the stark white ceiling of the hospital waiting room, sighing.
Xigbar was about to argue that this meant nothing because there was no guarantee, but the gents' door opened just then and Xemnas emerged.
"Here." Sephiroth stood up and unscrewed the cap of a water bottle. "Take a seat. How are you feeling?"
Xemnas sat between his brothers, and as much as Xigbar resented that bitch Saix for putting them through this, he kept his mouth shut. "Am I allowed to see her?" Xemnas said after a few seconds, ignoring the question completely.
"I need you to acknowledge the situation you are in, before I let you." Sephiroth clasped and unclasped his hands, but that was about as far as his nerves showed. "You need to understand that the police will have questions for you and your family. You need to understand that Saix isn't who she used to be any more."
"I understand," Xemnas said, too quick for their liking.
"Do you?" Sephiroth said lightly. "Do you fully understand the implications of a fugue state? You're going to walk into Dr Newcombe's office there, and you're going to want to hug and kiss her. But you can't. You can't even hold a proper conversation with her, because she doesn't know who you are. The last eight years she's spent with you have been wiped from her memory, and every year before that, too. She has no comprehension that she's married, that she has children, that she lives in a nice four bedroom house in the middle of Radiant Garden. Are you sure you understand?"
"I'm sure." He sighed, scrabbling to some hair to tug at. "Just…just let me see my wife."
"She's not your wife," Xigbar corrected, his thoughts getting the better of him. "She's just a shell."
~x~
Saïx cannot pinpoint an exact time and location for meeting her for the first time. He finds it difficult to explain, even to himself. If he has to provide an explanation, though, he'd call it something akin to snapshots. Sometimes, he just wakes up, or comes back from a mission, or does something as simple as twirl a pen, and he remembers fragments of her life.
It doesn't feel like he's travelling. He is quite certain that his feet are firmly planted in this barren world, keen to seek existence on this particular plane. In stark contrast, his mind runs haywire, breaking through the complexities of stern reality and wishful thinking, until they become one and the same.
He's always had himself down as mad - and dignified enough to admit it - but he does think that dreaming up of another universe is pushing it somewhat.
Even so, now he doesn't feel so lonely in this heartless body.