The Dichotomy Between Me and Me: Chapter 2
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.
~Chapter 2: Emptiness~
In the early hours of morning, I lock myself in the bathroom, peel off my pyjamas and just study. It's unbearable at first, to see a naked woman and not register it immediately as a reflection.
I'm relatively short and slim. If I didn't have an X shaped cut on my face, my distinguishing feature would probably be my mid-length, powder blue hair. My eyes are light orange and confused. My waist is only slightly curvy, my backside virtually missable.
After a shower, I write hello in the foggy mirror with both hands to see which is dominant. I wander back to the bedroom to change and realise that I'm very slightly pigeon toed when I walk. I also wear size ten clothes and am a D cup. Ninety percent of my tops are flowing tunic tops. I pick one, squeeze into a pair of jeans and tie my hair into a scruffy ponytail. Lastly, I tear open a plastic sleeve and from it, retrieve and slip on my wedding ring.
What I find particularly interesting about myself, though, is my stomach, where there are three half-inch scars near my bellybutton - one below, one to the left and one to the right. I trace them, and then push my fingers to the rest of my flesh, and think to myself that for someone with three children, this is an awfully good belly.
~o~
A greater challenge than getting reacquainted with my family is learning routine.
Every weekday, Demyx and Roxas have school, and Xemnas has work. I make lunch for all three of them and they leave at eight. Xemnas takes the car, drops off our sons and then drives to work. In the afternoon, Demyx and Roxas walk home from school, accompanied by their gym teacher. On Wednesdays, Xemnas goes to the gym; on Thursdays, Demyx has an extended music class after school; on Fridays, Roxas tends to go round Hayner's house.
Apparently, amongst all this, I'm a complacent housewife who stays at home all day and looks after Xion.
"Er…it's always been that way." Xemnas shifts uncomfortably, half-expecting me to complain at the deal we made on marriage. "Are you all right with that?"
I nod, a little surprised at how snugly Xion fits against my hip. She swings her legs, gurgles and rests her head on me. "I must have been all right with it. What are your work hours?"
"I start at nine and finish at six. Sometimes I get asked to do Saturdays too. This is my work address." Xemnas pins a scrap of paper to the fridge using a ladybird magnet. Most of that fridge is covered in photos of family outings I don't remember, and I find I can't stare at them too long. "That's the store number there as well, and my mobile number underneath. Call me if there's anything."
I examine the note. "You work in a shopping mall?"
"Just a salesman in a department store. Which itself is in a shopping mall," Xemnas replies. "It pays the bills."
"Oh…I wasn't complaining," I say, holding up my free hand. "I just want to get to grips with…stuff. Our life, I suppose."
"Take your time with that," says Xemnas, and he sticks his hands in his pockets before they reach for mine. "Have a quiet day today and…chill out or something."
"Okay, I'll do that."
There's the briefest pause that's abundant with tension and averted gazes, and then Xemnas says, "Are you ready to meet our neighbours?"
I nod. He takes me to our living room where Roxas and Demyx are getting ready for school. They are squabbling with one another and as soon as they see me, they vie for my attention. I shift Xion so that I can rock her. She's so cute that a part of me melts every time I look into her wide eyes. It's quite a feat, given that I've only known her the lesser of one to two hours; but again, there is the sense of wholeness when I am with the children, that even outshines the tension between Xemnas and myself. At times when they dominate the house with their shouting or laughter, I feel utterly convinced that we can do this.
"Demyx, that's Roxas' tie, sorry." Xemnas turns him to the stairs. "Yours is in your room somewhere I'm sure." He gestures to the sofa, where two strangers (to me at least) sit. "Saix, these are our next door neighbours - Axel and Larxene. Guys, this is Saix."
I think it's going to be another awkward reintroduction full of pauses, but I barely have time to register Axel and his shock of red hair before he strides over and crushes me (and Xion) into a back breaking hug. "Saix, welcome back! We've been worried sick about you. You really don't remember me? Or her?" He gestures behind him to Larxene, a petite woman with slick blonde hair, and the grin on his face is a little too captivating. "How can you forget Larxene? Did she not strike you enough times with her viper's tongue?"
"…I'm sorry?"
"Oh, right. Well, let's start from scratch." He gestures to himself, and I vaguely note that he still has an arm round me. "I'm Axel. I teach sports at your kids' school. Three years qualified and the most popular teacher there. We're great friends, you think I'm cooler than Xemnas, and we like to hang out on Thursday evenings to compare the mental bruises Larxene dished out to us."
"Very funny," cuts in Larxene. Her voice is as impish and childish as she looks. When she hugs me, she has to stand on tiptoe. "Xemnas told us about your memory loss. No worry," she affirms. "We'll take it slow. I'll talk you through your life history, though that being said…" She falters, draws back from me and slaps Axel's hip when she catches him nodding sagely. "Don't you have work?"
"I do!" Axel exclaims. "Gone, babe."
"Have a nice day at school," I say to Demyx and Roxas, and I kiss their foreheads as they pass. Axel lifts Larxene to kiss her goodbye, but she swats him in an attempt to be put down and she hisses loudly, "Stop it! You're making things awkward between Xemnas and Saïx!"
"I'm making it awkward? You just whispered in a very loud voice…!"
I take a step back before I realise I have done it. That tiny gesture is enough to wound both of us. "S-see you tonight?"
Xemnas' smile is a split second too late. "…See you tonight," he repeats, and then swoops down on Xion to give her a kiss.
"Go bye bye!" she cries. Xemnas shuts the door after the children and Axel. I sink back against the counter with a sigh.
“…That was terrible. I think I upset him.”
Larxene rummages around the fridge and selects an apple to snack on. She's svelte and smells of strong, woody perfume, and she looks so pretty and confident that I can't quite believe that she's my best friend. She doesn't seem the sort of person I'd open up to. “Yeah, a peck on the cheek would’ve worked," she says truthfully, "but don’t sweat, Xemnas is a big boy; he can cope. Right, photo albums seem the sensible place to start."
She lifts up her shoulder bag and wanders into the living room, apple in hand. There’s a degree of untouchable elegance to Larxene, like a statue’s initial uncanny resemblance to a human that then somehow goes beyond the limit. In the few minutes that I make tea for us, Larxene has managed to retrieve a large photo album and put on the stereo at low volume. It's a little disheartening to see she knows her way round my house better than I do.
"Sorry, I'm a bit liberal," says Larxene, and I'm momentarily stunned by her accuracy in reading my expression. She sits cross legged on the sofa, pulls her tea to her small lips and instructs, "Sit."
I do, taking the spot next to her with Xion in my lap.
"I'm going to do your face after this," says Larxene, "but first, here you go."
Though she passes the photo album to me, she insists on turning the pages. Larxene skips the first twenty or so. "That's all the immediate family. You already know them."
"I…I'd like to see, still." I tug at the pages and catch glimpses of a blue haired woman cradling toddlers with chubby cheeks and big smiles.
"Aha! Have you met him yet?" Larxene jabs a thin finger at someone with an eyepatch.
"That's Xigbar. I met him yesterday."
"Yeah, he's Xemnas' older brother and exceptionally talented at being a dick. He used to be in the army - a fully trained sniper. Then he did his eye in, and turned into a bitter old man who resents his brother's success. You and Xigbar really don't get on. In fact, you hate each other." She turns the page and doesn't give me much time to register this. "Sephiroth is this one here. He's Xemnas' younger brother."
Sephiroth has the same silvery hair as Xemnas, the same almond eyes and the same smile that's incredibly difficult to look away from. I trace the sparkling badges that adorn his blazer. "Is he with the military too?"
"No, the police. He's an inspector. He was the one who headed your case when you went missing. You like him. Sephiroth's got a natural charm about him but he always has his policeman head screwed on, so every time he makes conversation with people, it sounds like he's about to arrest you any second.”
“So an ex-sniper, a police inspector…and Xemnas is just a salesman?”
“Always has been.” Larxene shrugs. “Oh look, that's us!" She points to the next photo of events long lost, and in that panel of frozen time, the two of us are sporting face paint and a pout. "That was at a carnival one year ago, right before Xion arrived."
"She's one and a half," I point out. Larxene's mouth twitches a little.
"Ah," she says after a moment. "…Maybe it was two years ago then. Okay, see this guy here? That's Lex. He's Xemnas' best mate. Axel you already know…" She taps a photo of Axel trying to drink from two beer mugs, and I smile at it.
"How did you meet?"
"Like that, really," Larxene replies. "He was drunk and trying to get directions home."
"And how about us?" I ask next. "Did…Do we know each other from school, perhaps?"
"No, we met when you moved in next door, and Axel brought round a burned cake to welcome you."
"…I met Axel through you?"
"Yep. He’s the bane of my life." Larxene snorts to herself, and it suggests to me that Axel is anything but. "Why are you surprised?"
"I don't know," I lie, because I actually do know. For one mad moment, I had been dead certain that Axel and I were childhood friends. I think about checking this with Larxene, but since I'm the amnesiac, I shouldn't be the one casting the doubt. I fidget instead, stroking the downy top of Xion’s hair and swallowing down a giggle when she swings the book up to rest on her like a hat, and she bursts out laughing as though it’s the funniest thing in the world. “So Xemnas is quite a…um, decent guy?”
"Yeah, he’s all right," Larxene says, and the corner of her mouth tugs into an amused smile. "Not my type, mind you. He’s a bit of a dork but he’s very decent. You met him eight years ago and have been married for six. Hey, have you seen your wedding picture?"
I'm not sure I want to. Just the thought of seeing it makes me shiver and squirm with unjustifiable discomfort. On the one hand, it's a slap in the face, stark evidence of what I don't want to be true. On the other hand, it's my own damn wedding - why am I afraid of it?
"Here." Larxene hands over a silver framed photo, which she picked up from the mantelpiece, and while I'm so tempted to shut my eyes and pretend I've seen it, I'm drawn to it, like a horror film I have to witness out of curiosity.
It is, on the whole, beautiful. We look younger, fresher, excited at the thought of our futures woven into a single thread. His hands are a perfect fit to my waist and my whole body arches into his, flush and seamless. I wear an expression that I can't possibly replicate now; and the more I stare at the picture, the more I associate it with someone who isn't me. While I am busy scrutinising every aspect of the photo, the doorbell suddenly rings.
Larxene looks up and opens her mouth to volunteer, but I get there first. "I'll answer. Um…can you…?" I pass Xion to Larxene (who seems to seize up). "Maybe the children forgot something."
I open the front door, expecting to see Demyx or Roxas, but I come face to face with a woman instead. She has a massive bouquet of flowers in her arms.
"Hi," she says with a light smile. "Um…is Xemnas in?"
"He's just left for work," I answer. I'm torn between studying the colourful bunch or her pretty face. Her hair is blue, like mine, but tidier, more stylish, flicked at the nape and complementing her warm gaze. "…Are those flowers for him?" I'm supposed to be jealous, but since I have no attachment to Xemnas at all, I just sound curious instead.
"They're for the whole family," she corrects. "I wanted to stop by and um…wish you well. I heard from Xemnas that you were back home and recovering. I didn't think I'd see you in person, but I'm glad." She smiles and holds out the flowers. "Welcome back, Mrs Butler."
"Oh. Th-thank you, um…"
"Aqua," she supplies. "I'm so happy for you and Xemnas. He's cheered up considerably and he's very optimistic for your future."
"Oh," I say again. "…I haven't actually seen that side. I swear I just make him uncomfortable." I laugh nervously, and Aqua gives a sympathetic smile.
"You're very lucky," she says. "He's a wonderful man and he'll take care of you, the same way he always has done. If it's not too much trouble - I know you have your family to look after - I'd really love to spend some time with you, get to know you, as I’d like to apologise for the trouble I’ve caused and perhaps make up-"
A shadow falls across Aqua, and before I know it, Larxene has reached the door, taken one look at her and then stretched out a hand to shut the door in her face.
“Larxene,” I exclaim. I try to reopen the door but Larxene’s hand is firmly on the handle. “That was really rude…”
“Good. Come away.”
“Who is she? Aqua.”
Larxene passes Xion back to me. “You don’t need to know Aqua,” she says loftily. “Not yet, anyway. Okay, I’m going to do your face.” She leans so close that I go cross eyed. “Now. What am I going to do with that scar?”
~o~
Larxene so happens to be a makeup artist. She runs image consulting sessions, workshops and gets to see her work in magazines and on billboards. She’s overly critical and attentive to tiny details - which is the perfect approach for her job - and while she fusses over my scar, finding it incredibly insulting, I can’t help but like her. She even passes along the freebies she gets from work, handing over designer shoes (“Pavé style? Not my thing,” she said, practically throwing them at me) and consequently, explaining why I have so many nice outfits in my wardrobe.
I enjoy her brutal honesty, finding a bizarre sense of comfort when she criticises my tendency to always make myself the victim. She doesn’t walk on eggshells around me, and it’s not disheartening at all, to learn who I am - whether it’s nice or not.
“Yeah, you can be a bit dramatic,” says Larxene. “You worry a lot, have a tendency to be paranoid. But everyone gets like that,” she adds, reading the small print of a foundation pot and frowning. “Honey, I’m sorry. I think that scar is with you for life. I don’t think my blemish kit stands much chance.”
“Oh. That’s okay. Thanks for trying.”
“It looks awful on you, but hey, maybe Xemnas will find it a bit of a turn on. Let me do your eyes. They’re your best feature.”
She dabs at my face with a makeup pad, and she raises her eyebrows when I meet her gaze. "Does it hurt?" I ask her.
"Does what hurt?"
"When I look at you, and you know that everything we've shared is just gone." I glance down at Xion. She’s flicking through a picture book and running her fingers across the varying material on each page to stimulate her senses. "I'm really sorry I don't know who you are."
"It hurts a bit," Larxene admits. "But you’re going to be okay. You and Xemnas are really close; he knows you better than anyone and he’s going to take care of you. And Axel and I are only next door, so-”
I pull back.
“What’s wrong?” asks Larxene. “The eyeshadow’s new, but the colour suits, I promise.”
My shoulders tense. It all seems so foreign, so made up, like the cosmetics Larxene is putting on me. A cover up, a perfect lie to conceal the ugliness underneath that is truth. I’m starting to remember things -
Axel used to be my friend.
Xemnas isn’t my husband; he’s my boss.
I’m number seven.
I’m mad.
-but they conflict and don’t fit in this world I’ve been reintroduced to. I’m suddenly terrified, not at my lack of memory, but at the prospect of recalling things that never actually were.
When Larxene leaves for work at lunchtime, I scour the house (with Xion on my hip) for more information about myself. I end up settling down with a handwritten recipe book and examining every inch of it, like a detective searching for clues or a grieving woman attempting to come to terms with her loss.
At half three, Axel drops off Roxas and Demyx, and they shower me with tales of what they did today. I congratulate Roxas on his Project Day end result - his team made the strongest bridge in class - and get handed a pair of trousers with a fraying hem as Demyx pulls a guilty face. “I fell over at lunchtime, Mama. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, I’ll mend it. Um…do you know where my sewing box is?”
“On the bookshelf in the living room. You always keep it there.”
When Xion falls asleep, I take her upstairs and call to the other two, “Why don’t you go play in your rooms until dinnertime?”
Dinnertime doesn’t throw me into a panic. Actually, I feel most comfortable in the kitchen, standing at the warmth of the cooker, shuffling around while cutting up the carrots, examining the photos pinned to the fridge as I wait for the vegetables to boil. The more I scrutinise them, the more alien it feels. Perhaps a clever computer artist managed to edit the photos to include me. Perhaps an even higher manipulator whipped up this family to revolve around me. My heart throbs behind my ribcage at the very thought; I can’t tell if it’s from dread or hope.
At six-thirty, the front door clicks open and Xemnas comes home. My stomach does flips.
“Hi,” I say quickly, as he walks into the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“It smells great,” he compliments, “I’m starving.” He tosses his blazer onto the back of the head chair. “Good day?”
“Yes. You?”
“Good, thanks.” He moves round the kitchen island to meet the thunderous footsteps on the stairs, and I realise it’s a bit too late to move forwards to give him a kiss. I turn back to dinner, and it aches so much to be the jutting piece of the jigsaw. But I’ll try, and I’ll keep smiling, and I will be a mother and wife; or else I’ll be thrown back to that ward, I know it.
I serve up dinner, and Xemnas puts Xion in her highchair. “Here you go, Roxas. And for you, Demyx.” I practise their names, so often, so much, to get them to sound natural on my tongue. These are my children’s names. I should know them back to front, inside out. They’re the names I picked for them.
Xemnas sits at the head of the table, with Xion on his right and me on his left. His knee brushes against mine, and the heat from him lasts only a fraction of a second but it lingers.
“Mama,” Roxas says all of a sudden. “…Mama, there’s carrots in my dinner.”
“Um,” I start, though I don’t know how I’m going to finish. Roxas stares at me, and the annoyance in his eyes burns into the back of my throat.
“I don’t eat carrots, Mama,” he says, exasperated.
“S-sorry, I forgot…”
“How can you forget?” Roxas cries, and I know he doesn’t mean to hurt, he just doesn’t understand and god, neither do I. Xemnas stands up with his dinner plate and walks round to swap his peas with the carrots.
“You don’t use that tone of voice with your mother,” he scolds. “She’s only just come back to us and there’s a lot on her mind. Now say sorry.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
“That’s all right. It’s my fault anyway.”
We resume eating. I don’t feel too hungry any more. It isn’t a matter of living here and being nice to everyone I meet while they make compromises with my memory loss. I’m not at the beginning, or the start line. I’m in the middle of a song, or a racetrack, or a book; I have to finish what I have already begun. And it’s so hard.
When we finish dinner, I practically run to the kitchen to wash up. Xemnas follows me.
“Hey,” he calls gently, “don’t get discouraged. The kids aren’t old enough to understand what you’ve been through; but give them time. Please give them time. And carry on - you’re doing a great job. Sooner or later, something will trigger your memories, I’m sure of it…”
I set the taps running and opt to stare into the sink rather than my husband. I wet my lips, listening to - but not quite heeding - his words, and when he moves so that there’s only a foot between us, and his hand runs down my arm, I wriggle out of reach.
“You’re not real,” I blurt out. He seizes up, as though his heart has just stopped. Maybe it has.
“…I’m sorry?”
“You’re not real,” I say again. The words rip out of my throat in their sense and logicality. “This whole world is made up. Everything is made up and you’re expecting me to actually fall for it. I suddenly have this…this family, this house, this job…! It’s all so fake and stupid and nothing makes sense! I mean, here I am, doing the washing up for people I barely know, and everyone’s telling me who I am and what to do-”
“Saix, this is your life, I promise-”
“How do I know that?” I snap back. “What are your promises to me? I mean, who are you?!” My face flares up with the heat of anger, and I’m momentarily stunned by it. Briefly, all I can see is the whiteness of frustration, and then Xemnas’ voice cuts in, so patient and pronounced, it’s as if he’s used to this kind of situation.
“Saix, I wouldn’t lie to you about your life. No one you’ve met would. You’ve heard nothing but the truth. Talk to me.” He gestures to a seat at the kitchen island. “You can talk to me. I’ll help you. That’s why I’m here.”
“…Fine, you’ve told me truths,” I murmur, stepping away from the sink, away from him. “But withholding information is as bad as telling me lies. Who’s Aqua?” I demand. Xemnas pales, and he doesn’t reply. “See? You’re hiding things from me. I feel like I should be somewhere else.”
“Where do you think you should be?”
“Not here.”
He glances away from me. He might be checking to make sure his children are still upstairs. When he turns back to me, he wears a look on his face as though I have just kicked him. “…You don’t like us?”
I flush, and the heat of anger fizzles into a prickling discomfort, before I let my uncertainty go. “My children,” I stammer. “…They look nothing like me. They look nothing like you. Why don’t they look like us?”
I don’t realise I’m crying until he comes forward to wipe the tears with a thumb; in the blink of an eye, he ages ten years and takes me with him.
“…They’re adopted, love,” he murmurs.
My forehead pushes against his heart. He lets me cling onto him, despite the cruelty of my words, and again, I wonder if it’s from experience. “…Who?” I manage to choke out.
“You,” he says gently. “You can’t have children. You were very ill and had to have an operation to save your life. I’m so sorry. Ssh, ssh.” He cradles my face and there is the rushing feeling of complete security that makes the blow only slightly less painful. “I’m so sorry.”
I grab my stomach, and he tries to pry the iron grip of my fingers away, still whispering those meaningless words of comfort. I cry so hard that my eyelids swell and I lose the ability to speak. And Xemnas - Xemnas just tries to keep what’s left of me in one piece.
I think I knew it all along. The lack of stretch marks, the scars, the way Demyx would smile and I’d see no trace of myself, the emptiness I had in me right from the start.
~x~
Saïx wakes up with a greater understanding of how it feels to be missing something. He supposes it is a little narrow minded of him - and of the Organisation as a whole - to think a heart is all you can lose.
People lose things all the time.
You can lose an arm, or a finger, or have your kidney removed. You can lose a friendship or a love, you can lose track of time. You can lose your way, lose the plot, you can even lose your mind. You can miss people, miss the past, miss the moment.
You can miss the children who weren’t allowed to be born.
All across this world, the next world, and the universe beyond what he knows, people are missing something, in every shape and form. Maybe it's this connection, the feeling of emptiness and failure that travels across the bridge they can't cross, that makes him certain.
He knows how it sounds and as the resident madman of the Castle, there is little hope for him, but he has to try. In his defence, how can he be expected to carry out his duties as an agent of the Organisation, when someone else's universe is in his head? And how will she cope, when she realises she’s not recalling false information, but truths and facts from an alternate reality?
He needs help. They both do.
"Saïx! Hey, slow down!" Xigbar skids over to take his arm. Saïx shakes him loose and hisses.
"You will not touch me again!"
"But this corridor is a dead end. It just goes to the Superior's office and you know that the only time you can talk to him is during meetings. We've…you know, just come out of one."
"I'm aware of that." Saïx scowls and barges on ahead, damn the consequences of disobeying Number Two.
"No, really," Xigbar calls after him. "I'm speaking as a friend here. I did it once, and I still have marks on my arm from where those bloody energy beams struck me. You don't want to interrupt the Superior in his free time…!"
Saïx storms up to the large grey-bordered double doors, yanks down on the handles and bursts inside. He slams the door shut with enough force to make Xemnas look up from his work. The Superior is drowning in papers, files and books, and a tiny part Saïx finally appreciates the level of responsibility on his boss' shoulders.
"Perhaps Xigbar didn't brief you clearly enough," Xemnas says, and dips his head down to carry on writing. "I use meetings to communicate with the Organisation. All other hours are for private study."
"Xigbar explained this to me, but I don't care. Sir," he adds. "I have been trying to catch you on your own for the last two weeks, and now I have succeeded."
"My," Xemnas answers, idly turning a page. "Should I be worried?"
"No Sir," Saïx responds. "But I do not appreciate being ignored - and blatantly at that."
"You've been trying for two weeks? That's fourteen meetings and therefore, fourteen opportunities to talk. You are not being ignored, you are making yourself scarce of your own accord."
"Sir!" Saïx shouts at him, and he takes long strides to the desk. He slams his hands down, upsets a pile of reports and cloaks Xemnas in his shadow. "You are now mocking me. I want to be alone with you. I want to talk to you in private, about something. While I will readily admit that it is mainly a case of self-preservation, I also would like to keep it between us as I am only too willing for you to use the information as you please afterwards. Only you. I will not waste your time."
Xemnas sets his pen down, and there's a flicker of impatience in his amber eyes that Saïx knows not to ignore. He adds, "Sir," and Xemnas leans back in his chair and steeps his fingers.
"Ever since Number Nine's recruitment, you and Eight have taken one step up the ladder. One step," he reaffirms. "It is not such a great leap that you have the sudden authority to interrupt me out of hours and on top of it, demand my attention."
"Yes, I quite agree, Sir, but this is urgent."
"So are these." Xemnas gestures to his reports. "Even more so now that you have disturbed their order."
Saïx ducks down behind the desk, taking the hint. He refuses to backtrack and call his approaching the Superior a bad idea. He's come this far and he isn't leaving without some sort of progress.
"Thank you," says Xemnas, as Saïx sets down the reports in order. "You may leave now. I suggest you calm down, and refrain from testing my patience again."
Saïx's knees lock up. He stays standing, and with both hands back on the desk and two feet apart, he stares until Xemnas looks up. "Saïx. You are beginning to be very difficult."
"I am a woman, Sir," Saïx says, enunciating every syllable, maintaining his hollow stare and relenting when there's a small click and Xemnas sets down his pen. His amber eyes glance up and down, and Saïx catches the subtle movement.
"Is that right?"
Saïx shuts his eyes - just two seconds to calm his frustration - and reopens them. "In an alternate universe," he finishes. "I suddenly find myself able to connect with a completely different world and setting, with another me. There are people there in that universe that run parallel to this universe. Like…for example, Vexen is a psychiatrist in a hospital. We all exist in this universe, Sir, with hearts. I can give you so much information that will contribute to your research into the heart."
Xemnas' lips thin, and his chest rises with a heavy sigh. "Sit down, Saïx." He conjures up an armchair similar to his own, and Saïx sinks into it, hoping that he is about to receive assistance, not a stern apprehending. "…We all exist in another universe," he repeats. "My problem is this: there is no guarantee is there that the universe itself exists. You are expecting me to take a leap of faith and believe you."
"Yes Sir."
"For now, assume I do. Why do you connect to this universe now? Why you?"
"The moon," Saïx answers. "I am still getting used to my element, and it curses me further. You tell me that in other worlds, the moon is a satellite that has a circle of orbit, and it has a gravitational pull. What about this world's moon, Kingdom Hearts, and its effect on me? Is it possible that Kingdom Hearts can bend the walls of universes, and can pull realities closer? I'd like to know, Sir."
Xemnas picks up his pen. Saïx believes he does it, not from finality, but from disconcertment. Saïx has set down his reasons; he just needs proof.
"I've never heard of such a claim," Xemnas says finally, and when he glances at Saïx, his mask of disinterest breaks. "But then again, you are the only one influenced by the moon. I will grant you the benefit of the doubt. Prove to me that you have this link. When I am convinced, then you may have my assistance."
"Thank you, Sir. That's very generous." Saïx gets up, confident - never mind he doesn't know how to prove himself - but Xemnas calls him back.
"One last thing." Xemnas rests his elbows on his desk, leaning forwards a little. "You say that we all exist in that world. Tell me, Saïx. Where am I in this universe?"
Saïx's hand pauses on the door handle, and he recalls the scent of cardamom and birch leaf. "You're my husband, Sir," he replies, and he leaves the office before Xemnas can say anything else.
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.
~Chapter 2: Emptiness~
In the early hours of morning, I lock myself in the bathroom, peel off my pyjamas and just study. It's unbearable at first, to see a naked woman and not register it immediately as a reflection.
I'm relatively short and slim. If I didn't have an X shaped cut on my face, my distinguishing feature would probably be my mid-length, powder blue hair. My eyes are light orange and confused. My waist is only slightly curvy, my backside virtually missable.
After a shower, I write hello in the foggy mirror with both hands to see which is dominant. I wander back to the bedroom to change and realise that I'm very slightly pigeon toed when I walk. I also wear size ten clothes and am a D cup. Ninety percent of my tops are flowing tunic tops. I pick one, squeeze into a pair of jeans and tie my hair into a scruffy ponytail. Lastly, I tear open a plastic sleeve and from it, retrieve and slip on my wedding ring.
What I find particularly interesting about myself, though, is my stomach, where there are three half-inch scars near my bellybutton - one below, one to the left and one to the right. I trace them, and then push my fingers to the rest of my flesh, and think to myself that for someone with three children, this is an awfully good belly.
~o~
A greater challenge than getting reacquainted with my family is learning routine.
Every weekday, Demyx and Roxas have school, and Xemnas has work. I make lunch for all three of them and they leave at eight. Xemnas takes the car, drops off our sons and then drives to work. In the afternoon, Demyx and Roxas walk home from school, accompanied by their gym teacher. On Wednesdays, Xemnas goes to the gym; on Thursdays, Demyx has an extended music class after school; on Fridays, Roxas tends to go round Hayner's house.
Apparently, amongst all this, I'm a complacent housewife who stays at home all day and looks after Xion.
"Er…it's always been that way." Xemnas shifts uncomfortably, half-expecting me to complain at the deal we made on marriage. "Are you all right with that?"
I nod, a little surprised at how snugly Xion fits against my hip. She swings her legs, gurgles and rests her head on me. "I must have been all right with it. What are your work hours?"
"I start at nine and finish at six. Sometimes I get asked to do Saturdays too. This is my work address." Xemnas pins a scrap of paper to the fridge using a ladybird magnet. Most of that fridge is covered in photos of family outings I don't remember, and I find I can't stare at them too long. "That's the store number there as well, and my mobile number underneath. Call me if there's anything."
I examine the note. "You work in a shopping mall?"
"Just a salesman in a department store. Which itself is in a shopping mall," Xemnas replies. "It pays the bills."
"Oh…I wasn't complaining," I say, holding up my free hand. "I just want to get to grips with…stuff. Our life, I suppose."
"Take your time with that," says Xemnas, and he sticks his hands in his pockets before they reach for mine. "Have a quiet day today and…chill out or something."
"Okay, I'll do that."
There's the briefest pause that's abundant with tension and averted gazes, and then Xemnas says, "Are you ready to meet our neighbours?"
I nod. He takes me to our living room where Roxas and Demyx are getting ready for school. They are squabbling with one another and as soon as they see me, they vie for my attention. I shift Xion so that I can rock her. She's so cute that a part of me melts every time I look into her wide eyes. It's quite a feat, given that I've only known her the lesser of one to two hours; but again, there is the sense of wholeness when I am with the children, that even outshines the tension between Xemnas and myself. At times when they dominate the house with their shouting or laughter, I feel utterly convinced that we can do this.
"Demyx, that's Roxas' tie, sorry." Xemnas turns him to the stairs. "Yours is in your room somewhere I'm sure." He gestures to the sofa, where two strangers (to me at least) sit. "Saix, these are our next door neighbours - Axel and Larxene. Guys, this is Saix."
I think it's going to be another awkward reintroduction full of pauses, but I barely have time to register Axel and his shock of red hair before he strides over and crushes me (and Xion) into a back breaking hug. "Saix, welcome back! We've been worried sick about you. You really don't remember me? Or her?" He gestures behind him to Larxene, a petite woman with slick blonde hair, and the grin on his face is a little too captivating. "How can you forget Larxene? Did she not strike you enough times with her viper's tongue?"
"…I'm sorry?"
"Oh, right. Well, let's start from scratch." He gestures to himself, and I vaguely note that he still has an arm round me. "I'm Axel. I teach sports at your kids' school. Three years qualified and the most popular teacher there. We're great friends, you think I'm cooler than Xemnas, and we like to hang out on Thursday evenings to compare the mental bruises Larxene dished out to us."
"Very funny," cuts in Larxene. Her voice is as impish and childish as she looks. When she hugs me, she has to stand on tiptoe. "Xemnas told us about your memory loss. No worry," she affirms. "We'll take it slow. I'll talk you through your life history, though that being said…" She falters, draws back from me and slaps Axel's hip when she catches him nodding sagely. "Don't you have work?"
"I do!" Axel exclaims. "Gone, babe."
"Have a nice day at school," I say to Demyx and Roxas, and I kiss their foreheads as they pass. Axel lifts Larxene to kiss her goodbye, but she swats him in an attempt to be put down and she hisses loudly, "Stop it! You're making things awkward between Xemnas and Saïx!"
"I'm making it awkward? You just whispered in a very loud voice…!"
I take a step back before I realise I have done it. That tiny gesture is enough to wound both of us. "S-see you tonight?"
Xemnas' smile is a split second too late. "…See you tonight," he repeats, and then swoops down on Xion to give her a kiss.
"Go bye bye!" she cries. Xemnas shuts the door after the children and Axel. I sink back against the counter with a sigh.
“…That was terrible. I think I upset him.”
Larxene rummages around the fridge and selects an apple to snack on. She's svelte and smells of strong, woody perfume, and she looks so pretty and confident that I can't quite believe that she's my best friend. She doesn't seem the sort of person I'd open up to. “Yeah, a peck on the cheek would’ve worked," she says truthfully, "but don’t sweat, Xemnas is a big boy; he can cope. Right, photo albums seem the sensible place to start."
She lifts up her shoulder bag and wanders into the living room, apple in hand. There’s a degree of untouchable elegance to Larxene, like a statue’s initial uncanny resemblance to a human that then somehow goes beyond the limit. In the few minutes that I make tea for us, Larxene has managed to retrieve a large photo album and put on the stereo at low volume. It's a little disheartening to see she knows her way round my house better than I do.
"Sorry, I'm a bit liberal," says Larxene, and I'm momentarily stunned by her accuracy in reading my expression. She sits cross legged on the sofa, pulls her tea to her small lips and instructs, "Sit."
I do, taking the spot next to her with Xion in my lap.
"I'm going to do your face after this," says Larxene, "but first, here you go."
Though she passes the photo album to me, she insists on turning the pages. Larxene skips the first twenty or so. "That's all the immediate family. You already know them."
"I…I'd like to see, still." I tug at the pages and catch glimpses of a blue haired woman cradling toddlers with chubby cheeks and big smiles.
"Aha! Have you met him yet?" Larxene jabs a thin finger at someone with an eyepatch.
"That's Xigbar. I met him yesterday."
"Yeah, he's Xemnas' older brother and exceptionally talented at being a dick. He used to be in the army - a fully trained sniper. Then he did his eye in, and turned into a bitter old man who resents his brother's success. You and Xigbar really don't get on. In fact, you hate each other." She turns the page and doesn't give me much time to register this. "Sephiroth is this one here. He's Xemnas' younger brother."
Sephiroth has the same silvery hair as Xemnas, the same almond eyes and the same smile that's incredibly difficult to look away from. I trace the sparkling badges that adorn his blazer. "Is he with the military too?"
"No, the police. He's an inspector. He was the one who headed your case when you went missing. You like him. Sephiroth's got a natural charm about him but he always has his policeman head screwed on, so every time he makes conversation with people, it sounds like he's about to arrest you any second.”
“So an ex-sniper, a police inspector…and Xemnas is just a salesman?”
“Always has been.” Larxene shrugs. “Oh look, that's us!" She points to the next photo of events long lost, and in that panel of frozen time, the two of us are sporting face paint and a pout. "That was at a carnival one year ago, right before Xion arrived."
"She's one and a half," I point out. Larxene's mouth twitches a little.
"Ah," she says after a moment. "…Maybe it was two years ago then. Okay, see this guy here? That's Lex. He's Xemnas' best mate. Axel you already know…" She taps a photo of Axel trying to drink from two beer mugs, and I smile at it.
"How did you meet?"
"Like that, really," Larxene replies. "He was drunk and trying to get directions home."
"And how about us?" I ask next. "Did…Do we know each other from school, perhaps?"
"No, we met when you moved in next door, and Axel brought round a burned cake to welcome you."
"…I met Axel through you?"
"Yep. He’s the bane of my life." Larxene snorts to herself, and it suggests to me that Axel is anything but. "Why are you surprised?"
"I don't know," I lie, because I actually do know. For one mad moment, I had been dead certain that Axel and I were childhood friends. I think about checking this with Larxene, but since I'm the amnesiac, I shouldn't be the one casting the doubt. I fidget instead, stroking the downy top of Xion’s hair and swallowing down a giggle when she swings the book up to rest on her like a hat, and she bursts out laughing as though it’s the funniest thing in the world. “So Xemnas is quite a…um, decent guy?”
"Yeah, he’s all right," Larxene says, and the corner of her mouth tugs into an amused smile. "Not my type, mind you. He’s a bit of a dork but he’s very decent. You met him eight years ago and have been married for six. Hey, have you seen your wedding picture?"
I'm not sure I want to. Just the thought of seeing it makes me shiver and squirm with unjustifiable discomfort. On the one hand, it's a slap in the face, stark evidence of what I don't want to be true. On the other hand, it's my own damn wedding - why am I afraid of it?
"Here." Larxene hands over a silver framed photo, which she picked up from the mantelpiece, and while I'm so tempted to shut my eyes and pretend I've seen it, I'm drawn to it, like a horror film I have to witness out of curiosity.
It is, on the whole, beautiful. We look younger, fresher, excited at the thought of our futures woven into a single thread. His hands are a perfect fit to my waist and my whole body arches into his, flush and seamless. I wear an expression that I can't possibly replicate now; and the more I stare at the picture, the more I associate it with someone who isn't me. While I am busy scrutinising every aspect of the photo, the doorbell suddenly rings.
Larxene looks up and opens her mouth to volunteer, but I get there first. "I'll answer. Um…can you…?" I pass Xion to Larxene (who seems to seize up). "Maybe the children forgot something."
I open the front door, expecting to see Demyx or Roxas, but I come face to face with a woman instead. She has a massive bouquet of flowers in her arms.
"Hi," she says with a light smile. "Um…is Xemnas in?"
"He's just left for work," I answer. I'm torn between studying the colourful bunch or her pretty face. Her hair is blue, like mine, but tidier, more stylish, flicked at the nape and complementing her warm gaze. "…Are those flowers for him?" I'm supposed to be jealous, but since I have no attachment to Xemnas at all, I just sound curious instead.
"They're for the whole family," she corrects. "I wanted to stop by and um…wish you well. I heard from Xemnas that you were back home and recovering. I didn't think I'd see you in person, but I'm glad." She smiles and holds out the flowers. "Welcome back, Mrs Butler."
"Oh. Th-thank you, um…"
"Aqua," she supplies. "I'm so happy for you and Xemnas. He's cheered up considerably and he's very optimistic for your future."
"Oh," I say again. "…I haven't actually seen that side. I swear I just make him uncomfortable." I laugh nervously, and Aqua gives a sympathetic smile.
"You're very lucky," she says. "He's a wonderful man and he'll take care of you, the same way he always has done. If it's not too much trouble - I know you have your family to look after - I'd really love to spend some time with you, get to know you, as I’d like to apologise for the trouble I’ve caused and perhaps make up-"
A shadow falls across Aqua, and before I know it, Larxene has reached the door, taken one look at her and then stretched out a hand to shut the door in her face.
“Larxene,” I exclaim. I try to reopen the door but Larxene’s hand is firmly on the handle. “That was really rude…”
“Good. Come away.”
“Who is she? Aqua.”
Larxene passes Xion back to me. “You don’t need to know Aqua,” she says loftily. “Not yet, anyway. Okay, I’m going to do your face.” She leans so close that I go cross eyed. “Now. What am I going to do with that scar?”
~o~
Larxene so happens to be a makeup artist. She runs image consulting sessions, workshops and gets to see her work in magazines and on billboards. She’s overly critical and attentive to tiny details - which is the perfect approach for her job - and while she fusses over my scar, finding it incredibly insulting, I can’t help but like her. She even passes along the freebies she gets from work, handing over designer shoes (“Pavé style? Not my thing,” she said, practically throwing them at me) and consequently, explaining why I have so many nice outfits in my wardrobe.
I enjoy her brutal honesty, finding a bizarre sense of comfort when she criticises my tendency to always make myself the victim. She doesn’t walk on eggshells around me, and it’s not disheartening at all, to learn who I am - whether it’s nice or not.
“Yeah, you can be a bit dramatic,” says Larxene. “You worry a lot, have a tendency to be paranoid. But everyone gets like that,” she adds, reading the small print of a foundation pot and frowning. “Honey, I’m sorry. I think that scar is with you for life. I don’t think my blemish kit stands much chance.”
“Oh. That’s okay. Thanks for trying.”
“It looks awful on you, but hey, maybe Xemnas will find it a bit of a turn on. Let me do your eyes. They’re your best feature.”
She dabs at my face with a makeup pad, and she raises her eyebrows when I meet her gaze. "Does it hurt?" I ask her.
"Does what hurt?"
"When I look at you, and you know that everything we've shared is just gone." I glance down at Xion. She’s flicking through a picture book and running her fingers across the varying material on each page to stimulate her senses. "I'm really sorry I don't know who you are."
"It hurts a bit," Larxene admits. "But you’re going to be okay. You and Xemnas are really close; he knows you better than anyone and he’s going to take care of you. And Axel and I are only next door, so-”
I pull back.
“What’s wrong?” asks Larxene. “The eyeshadow’s new, but the colour suits, I promise.”
My shoulders tense. It all seems so foreign, so made up, like the cosmetics Larxene is putting on me. A cover up, a perfect lie to conceal the ugliness underneath that is truth. I’m starting to remember things -
Axel used to be my friend.
Xemnas isn’t my husband; he’s my boss.
I’m number seven.
I’m mad.
-but they conflict and don’t fit in this world I’ve been reintroduced to. I’m suddenly terrified, not at my lack of memory, but at the prospect of recalling things that never actually were.
When Larxene leaves for work at lunchtime, I scour the house (with Xion on my hip) for more information about myself. I end up settling down with a handwritten recipe book and examining every inch of it, like a detective searching for clues or a grieving woman attempting to come to terms with her loss.
At half three, Axel drops off Roxas and Demyx, and they shower me with tales of what they did today. I congratulate Roxas on his Project Day end result - his team made the strongest bridge in class - and get handed a pair of trousers with a fraying hem as Demyx pulls a guilty face. “I fell over at lunchtime, Mama. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, I’ll mend it. Um…do you know where my sewing box is?”
“On the bookshelf in the living room. You always keep it there.”
When Xion falls asleep, I take her upstairs and call to the other two, “Why don’t you go play in your rooms until dinnertime?”
Dinnertime doesn’t throw me into a panic. Actually, I feel most comfortable in the kitchen, standing at the warmth of the cooker, shuffling around while cutting up the carrots, examining the photos pinned to the fridge as I wait for the vegetables to boil. The more I scrutinise them, the more alien it feels. Perhaps a clever computer artist managed to edit the photos to include me. Perhaps an even higher manipulator whipped up this family to revolve around me. My heart throbs behind my ribcage at the very thought; I can’t tell if it’s from dread or hope.
At six-thirty, the front door clicks open and Xemnas comes home. My stomach does flips.
“Hi,” I say quickly, as he walks into the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“It smells great,” he compliments, “I’m starving.” He tosses his blazer onto the back of the head chair. “Good day?”
“Yes. You?”
“Good, thanks.” He moves round the kitchen island to meet the thunderous footsteps on the stairs, and I realise it’s a bit too late to move forwards to give him a kiss. I turn back to dinner, and it aches so much to be the jutting piece of the jigsaw. But I’ll try, and I’ll keep smiling, and I will be a mother and wife; or else I’ll be thrown back to that ward, I know it.
I serve up dinner, and Xemnas puts Xion in her highchair. “Here you go, Roxas. And for you, Demyx.” I practise their names, so often, so much, to get them to sound natural on my tongue. These are my children’s names. I should know them back to front, inside out. They’re the names I picked for them.
Xemnas sits at the head of the table, with Xion on his right and me on his left. His knee brushes against mine, and the heat from him lasts only a fraction of a second but it lingers.
“Mama,” Roxas says all of a sudden. “…Mama, there’s carrots in my dinner.”
“Um,” I start, though I don’t know how I’m going to finish. Roxas stares at me, and the annoyance in his eyes burns into the back of my throat.
“I don’t eat carrots, Mama,” he says, exasperated.
“S-sorry, I forgot…”
“How can you forget?” Roxas cries, and I know he doesn’t mean to hurt, he just doesn’t understand and god, neither do I. Xemnas stands up with his dinner plate and walks round to swap his peas with the carrots.
“You don’t use that tone of voice with your mother,” he scolds. “She’s only just come back to us and there’s a lot on her mind. Now say sorry.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
“That’s all right. It’s my fault anyway.”
We resume eating. I don’t feel too hungry any more. It isn’t a matter of living here and being nice to everyone I meet while they make compromises with my memory loss. I’m not at the beginning, or the start line. I’m in the middle of a song, or a racetrack, or a book; I have to finish what I have already begun. And it’s so hard.
When we finish dinner, I practically run to the kitchen to wash up. Xemnas follows me.
“Hey,” he calls gently, “don’t get discouraged. The kids aren’t old enough to understand what you’ve been through; but give them time. Please give them time. And carry on - you’re doing a great job. Sooner or later, something will trigger your memories, I’m sure of it…”
I set the taps running and opt to stare into the sink rather than my husband. I wet my lips, listening to - but not quite heeding - his words, and when he moves so that there’s only a foot between us, and his hand runs down my arm, I wriggle out of reach.
“You’re not real,” I blurt out. He seizes up, as though his heart has just stopped. Maybe it has.
“…I’m sorry?”
“You’re not real,” I say again. The words rip out of my throat in their sense and logicality. “This whole world is made up. Everything is made up and you’re expecting me to actually fall for it. I suddenly have this…this family, this house, this job…! It’s all so fake and stupid and nothing makes sense! I mean, here I am, doing the washing up for people I barely know, and everyone’s telling me who I am and what to do-”
“Saix, this is your life, I promise-”
“How do I know that?” I snap back. “What are your promises to me? I mean, who are you?!” My face flares up with the heat of anger, and I’m momentarily stunned by it. Briefly, all I can see is the whiteness of frustration, and then Xemnas’ voice cuts in, so patient and pronounced, it’s as if he’s used to this kind of situation.
“Saix, I wouldn’t lie to you about your life. No one you’ve met would. You’ve heard nothing but the truth. Talk to me.” He gestures to a seat at the kitchen island. “You can talk to me. I’ll help you. That’s why I’m here.”
“…Fine, you’ve told me truths,” I murmur, stepping away from the sink, away from him. “But withholding information is as bad as telling me lies. Who’s Aqua?” I demand. Xemnas pales, and he doesn’t reply. “See? You’re hiding things from me. I feel like I should be somewhere else.”
“Where do you think you should be?”
“Not here.”
He glances away from me. He might be checking to make sure his children are still upstairs. When he turns back to me, he wears a look on his face as though I have just kicked him. “…You don’t like us?”
I flush, and the heat of anger fizzles into a prickling discomfort, before I let my uncertainty go. “My children,” I stammer. “…They look nothing like me. They look nothing like you. Why don’t they look like us?”
I don’t realise I’m crying until he comes forward to wipe the tears with a thumb; in the blink of an eye, he ages ten years and takes me with him.
“…They’re adopted, love,” he murmurs.
My forehead pushes against his heart. He lets me cling onto him, despite the cruelty of my words, and again, I wonder if it’s from experience. “…Who?” I manage to choke out.
“You,” he says gently. “You can’t have children. You were very ill and had to have an operation to save your life. I’m so sorry. Ssh, ssh.” He cradles my face and there is the rushing feeling of complete security that makes the blow only slightly less painful. “I’m so sorry.”
I grab my stomach, and he tries to pry the iron grip of my fingers away, still whispering those meaningless words of comfort. I cry so hard that my eyelids swell and I lose the ability to speak. And Xemnas - Xemnas just tries to keep what’s left of me in one piece.
I think I knew it all along. The lack of stretch marks, the scars, the way Demyx would smile and I’d see no trace of myself, the emptiness I had in me right from the start.
~x~
Saïx wakes up with a greater understanding of how it feels to be missing something. He supposes it is a little narrow minded of him - and of the Organisation as a whole - to think a heart is all you can lose.
People lose things all the time.
You can lose an arm, or a finger, or have your kidney removed. You can lose a friendship or a love, you can lose track of time. You can lose your way, lose the plot, you can even lose your mind. You can miss people, miss the past, miss the moment.
You can miss the children who weren’t allowed to be born.
All across this world, the next world, and the universe beyond what he knows, people are missing something, in every shape and form. Maybe it's this connection, the feeling of emptiness and failure that travels across the bridge they can't cross, that makes him certain.
He knows how it sounds and as the resident madman of the Castle, there is little hope for him, but he has to try. In his defence, how can he be expected to carry out his duties as an agent of the Organisation, when someone else's universe is in his head? And how will she cope, when she realises she’s not recalling false information, but truths and facts from an alternate reality?
He needs help. They both do.
"Saïx! Hey, slow down!" Xigbar skids over to take his arm. Saïx shakes him loose and hisses.
"You will not touch me again!"
"But this corridor is a dead end. It just goes to the Superior's office and you know that the only time you can talk to him is during meetings. We've…you know, just come out of one."
"I'm aware of that." Saïx scowls and barges on ahead, damn the consequences of disobeying Number Two.
"No, really," Xigbar calls after him. "I'm speaking as a friend here. I did it once, and I still have marks on my arm from where those bloody energy beams struck me. You don't want to interrupt the Superior in his free time…!"
Saïx storms up to the large grey-bordered double doors, yanks down on the handles and bursts inside. He slams the door shut with enough force to make Xemnas look up from his work. The Superior is drowning in papers, files and books, and a tiny part Saïx finally appreciates the level of responsibility on his boss' shoulders.
"Perhaps Xigbar didn't brief you clearly enough," Xemnas says, and dips his head down to carry on writing. "I use meetings to communicate with the Organisation. All other hours are for private study."
"Xigbar explained this to me, but I don't care. Sir," he adds. "I have been trying to catch you on your own for the last two weeks, and now I have succeeded."
"My," Xemnas answers, idly turning a page. "Should I be worried?"
"No Sir," Saïx responds. "But I do not appreciate being ignored - and blatantly at that."
"You've been trying for two weeks? That's fourteen meetings and therefore, fourteen opportunities to talk. You are not being ignored, you are making yourself scarce of your own accord."
"Sir!" Saïx shouts at him, and he takes long strides to the desk. He slams his hands down, upsets a pile of reports and cloaks Xemnas in his shadow. "You are now mocking me. I want to be alone with you. I want to talk to you in private, about something. While I will readily admit that it is mainly a case of self-preservation, I also would like to keep it between us as I am only too willing for you to use the information as you please afterwards. Only you. I will not waste your time."
Xemnas sets his pen down, and there's a flicker of impatience in his amber eyes that Saïx knows not to ignore. He adds, "Sir," and Xemnas leans back in his chair and steeps his fingers.
"Ever since Number Nine's recruitment, you and Eight have taken one step up the ladder. One step," he reaffirms. "It is not such a great leap that you have the sudden authority to interrupt me out of hours and on top of it, demand my attention."
"Yes, I quite agree, Sir, but this is urgent."
"So are these." Xemnas gestures to his reports. "Even more so now that you have disturbed their order."
Saïx ducks down behind the desk, taking the hint. He refuses to backtrack and call his approaching the Superior a bad idea. He's come this far and he isn't leaving without some sort of progress.
"Thank you," says Xemnas, as Saïx sets down the reports in order. "You may leave now. I suggest you calm down, and refrain from testing my patience again."
Saïx's knees lock up. He stays standing, and with both hands back on the desk and two feet apart, he stares until Xemnas looks up. "Saïx. You are beginning to be very difficult."
"I am a woman, Sir," Saïx says, enunciating every syllable, maintaining his hollow stare and relenting when there's a small click and Xemnas sets down his pen. His amber eyes glance up and down, and Saïx catches the subtle movement.
"Is that right?"
Saïx shuts his eyes - just two seconds to calm his frustration - and reopens them. "In an alternate universe," he finishes. "I suddenly find myself able to connect with a completely different world and setting, with another me. There are people there in that universe that run parallel to this universe. Like…for example, Vexen is a psychiatrist in a hospital. We all exist in this universe, Sir, with hearts. I can give you so much information that will contribute to your research into the heart."
Xemnas' lips thin, and his chest rises with a heavy sigh. "Sit down, Saïx." He conjures up an armchair similar to his own, and Saïx sinks into it, hoping that he is about to receive assistance, not a stern apprehending. "…We all exist in another universe," he repeats. "My problem is this: there is no guarantee is there that the universe itself exists. You are expecting me to take a leap of faith and believe you."
"Yes Sir."
"For now, assume I do. Why do you connect to this universe now? Why you?"
"The moon," Saïx answers. "I am still getting used to my element, and it curses me further. You tell me that in other worlds, the moon is a satellite that has a circle of orbit, and it has a gravitational pull. What about this world's moon, Kingdom Hearts, and its effect on me? Is it possible that Kingdom Hearts can bend the walls of universes, and can pull realities closer? I'd like to know, Sir."
Xemnas picks up his pen. Saïx believes he does it, not from finality, but from disconcertment. Saïx has set down his reasons; he just needs proof.
"I've never heard of such a claim," Xemnas says finally, and when he glances at Saïx, his mask of disinterest breaks. "But then again, you are the only one influenced by the moon. I will grant you the benefit of the doubt. Prove to me that you have this link. When I am convinced, then you may have my assistance."
"Thank you, Sir. That's very generous." Saïx gets up, confident - never mind he doesn't know how to prove himself - but Xemnas calls him back.
"One last thing." Xemnas rests his elbows on his desk, leaning forwards a little. "You say that we all exist in that world. Tell me, Saïx. Where am I in this universe?"
Saïx's hand pauses on the door handle, and he recalls the scent of cardamom and birch leaf. "You're my husband, Sir," he replies, and he leaves the office before Xemnas can say anything else.