FicWad

Roxas sat down for a moment in the cooler air of the Proof of Existence and heaved a deep sigh of relief. Demyx's stone was still glowing a clear, bright blue. That news ought to relax the Flurry of Dancing Flames somewhat - whenever Axel got worked up about something, his body temperature started rising, and when Axel's temperature started rising, things caught fire. After stopping back at the kitchen to get more ice cream - Xaldin wasn't around to chase him away - he returned to Axel's room to reassure him that the Melodious Nocturne had managed to survive whatever horror had driven his pyro friend to distraction.

He nearly gasped - the temperature seemed to have gone up ten degrees in his brief absence. Axel was sitting on his bed, staring at the molten remains of another ruined ice cream that was now running down his hand to his wrist. "Axel - you were supposed to eat that!"

"I didn't want to."

Roxas heaved another deep sigh, this one of frustration, and handed Axel a fresh ice cream. "I don't care - eat this one. There's good news - I checked the Proof, and Demyx is still alive."

"Well, of course you are - you're talking to me."

Roxas gaped at him for a long, long moment, as Axel stared unenthusiastically at the ice cream and started eating it with a martyred look. "Axel...I'm Roxas. Not Demyx. Roxas."

"Huh?" The redhead blinked as if he was just seeing Roxas for the first time. "Oh. Yeah. You are. Don't know how I got you confused."

"Axel, what's the matter with you?Your room's like an oven, you can't tell me from Demyx, and you don't want ice cream! The ice cream alone makes me think you're sick or something."

Axel sniffed a bit. "You told me that water might make me sick..."

"God/damn/it! I am not Demyx!"

Axel looked up, recognition and realization dawning in his eyes. "You're right. You're Roxas. I know that. Got it memorized. Just...until I look away. I guess...I am sick. You were right- Demyx was right."

He shivered.

Roxas nearly jumped. Axel /never/shivered. He'd spent three hours in his boxers in a walk-in freezer once, just for a bet, and had emerged tired, a bit sluggish, and mad as hell at Luxord, but not /shivering/. Then Roxas did jump, as the carpet suddenly burst into a merry blaze. He grabbed for the bucket of water he'd been keeping handy to douse Axel's "accidents".

He looked at the ruined carpet...at the empty bucket...at the miserable Flurry...at the ruined carpet..."Axel?"

"Sorry," Axel murmured."I d-didn't mean to."

Roxas put one hand against Axel's forehead and immediately jerked it away. "Your skin's like a lit burner -oh, this is bad. Here, I'll get you some water to drink, and then I'll go get help for you, okay?"

Axel whimpered. "But you said the water was disgusting."

Not again...guess I might as well go with it."Not this water. I'll get you some fresh water that's okay to drink. Idon't want you to overheat and start another fire."

"But...can't you just put it out?"

"If I kept putting out all your little fires, I'd burn out my powers eventually, and someone might get hurt. It's easier if you don't start any." Roxas ran into the bathroom and filled a glass from the tap. "Here, drink this, and I'll be right back."


"-but when I came back from the Proof of Existence, Ax- Eight had just let his ice cream melt instead of eating it, and he kept mistaking me for Nine. Every time I corrected him, he recognized me, but he'd do it again a minute later. And - he was shivering." Roxas looked up uncertainly at the Chilly Academic.

Vexen sighed and rubbed his forehead."You didn't, by any chance, check his temperature?"

Roxas nodded. "Well, I tried. I put one hand to his forehead and it was like putting it down on a burner."

"Were there any more spontaneous conflagrations?"

"..."

"Did he start any more fires, Thirteen?"

"Well, right before I went to check the Proof, his closet door started smoking a bit, and right after he started shivering, a big chunk of the carpet caught fire. I put it out - I hope he hasn't started any more fires..."

Vexen closed his eyes."Thirteen..." He looked as if he wanted to continue, but stopped."Is there anything else you can tell me about Eight's condition?" Roxas shook his head. "Then...I believe the Superior would like to see you."

Roxas's stomach dropped into his boots. He portaled to Xemnas's office, followed by a cloud of impending doom.

Xemnas and Zexion - of all Nobodies -looked up as he entered. Xemnas looked like he had a record-setting migraine. Zexion looked like a particularly dispassionate statue.

Xemnas had apparently been writing something; he set his pen down to interrogate Roxas. "Thirteen...how is Eight's condition?"

"S-Superior, he's out of it. He barely recognizes me." Roxas couldn't quite keep the tremor out of his voice. "He keeps mistaking me for Nine. I-I think he's really sick; I told Four ab-"

The Superior cut him off with a wave of his hand and a heavy sigh. "Number Eight cannot be allowed to remain at the castle during his illness. It would be a disaster waiting to happen. And it is imperative we learn what happened to Number Nine. In case of disaster, Iwould have expected Nine to come fleeing back in a panic and Eight to return in a temper; instead Eight returns in a panic and Nine simply fails to return." He motioned Zexion over. "The one member who would stand the best chance of finding Nine is Eight, and he cannot be sent. Therefore, you are to tell Six everything Eight may have shared with you about this failed mission and Nine's possible whereabouts."

He's sending Zexion on asearch-and-rescue mission? If you can call it that? "Um, Superior...what will happen to Eight?"

"We intend to send him to recover in a world where he is - unlikely to cause a great deal of damage. And as the one member who can likely be trusted to look after him without either of you being seriously injured, you will be accompanying him."




Demyx couldn't remember being so miserable in his entire nonexistence, and he'd been miserable more often than one might suspect. He was soaked to the bone and didn't have enough power left to do anything about it, colder than Vexen's freezer with nothing warmer than his sopping cloak and a pretty wet blanket, couldn't bring his sitar back after unsummoning it; he was hungry, lost, lonely, couldn't stop shaking, and his entire body hurt, especially his head, arms, and throat. He was so completely drained he couldn't even open a portal home.

There wasn't a single person here who cared. And he figured his rescue would wait until none of the other members had anything better to do.

"I'm so bored; I'm sick of sitting around here; what can we do?" "Well, we could go rescue Nine...""Oh, Superior, wasn't there something you needed done in the Underworld?..." Pfft. Maybe Axel will wake up feeling guilty and come get me.Demyx snorted at the idea. Even if he tried, he'd never find me. For all Iknow, he's not even in any shape to try. The storm had washed away his optimistic spirit along with the house whose roof he'd been camped on. Idon't even know where I am. The last thing he remembered was feeling his control over his element falter...as the water finally crawled up to where he couldn't avoid it...and the house started to shift...and he prepared to kiss his existence goodbye over this last, stupidest stunt.

Obviously, that hadn't happened. Something - most likely one of his own water clones, in its last few minutes before dissipating - had gathered him up and carried him - here. Wherever here was - it looked like a giant stadium, except the floor was covered in water and debris - possibly the missing chunks of the roof. He pulled his borrowed blanket closer and shivered.

"You all right, kid?"

Demyx looked around in surprise. The dark-skinned woman in white - a complete stranger - was talking to him! She actually wanted to know if he was okay or not!

"Yss." Kingdom Hearts - did his voice really sound that bad? He coughed and tried again. "Yhss." That wasn't much of an improvement. He coughed again. "Yes."

The woman looked at him skeptically."You don't sound okay. Open your mouth and lemme take a look at your throat." Demyx, generally an obliging sort, did so without question, even though he did gag a bit on the tongue depressor. She frowned, apparently not liking what she saw, and put her hand to his forehead. "Well, kid, your throat's all red and you got kind of a fever. What's your name?"

"Demyx," he mumbled. His throat hurt twice as much when he tried to talk.

"You just say Dennis?"

Demyx blinked, then just nodded."Yeah." It was close enough to his "real" name, and if it helped him fit in here right now, when he couldn't defend himself by any means...

"Dennis, you got family here with you? Or friends?" He shook his head, not wanting to talk any more than he had to. "You here all by yourself?" He nodded. "Well, if you got here before Katrina did, you must have -"

...The hell is Katrina? Demyx just shook his head. "What, you didn't come in until after the storm started?How'd you get here?" The woman's eyes suddenly brightened. "Wait, now I remember where I saw you before. You're the last guy the Brown Men brought in!"

"...The Brown Men?" he whispered in confusion.

"I ain't surprised if you don't remember. But I figure there musta been two dozen of 'em goin' through the city walkin' on water, rescuin' people and bringin' 'em back here. They were brown all over, like they were made of river water, and they were wearin' these funny coats...actually, they looked kinda like the coat you got on, 'cept brown instead of black...actually..." The woman grabbed his chin and turned his head. "Your face looks a lot like theirs, too, now I get a better look at it. Same funny hairstyle and everything."

Funny hairstyle?!...Wait a second...Oh. Nowhe had it figured out. The so-called "Brown Men" must have been his water clones! Demyx might have laughed at that, except he suddenly started shaking again, and coughed when he tried to laugh. The woman frowned deeply.

"Dennis, lemme check your heart and lungs quick." He froze. No...anything but that... But it was too late. With practiced ease, the woman had produced a stethoscope and thrust it down his shirt, where the cold metal pressed uncomfortably against his skin.

She listened...and listened...and listened...and moved the stethoscope a little this way...a little that way...a little further this way...and dropped the stethoscope, closing her eyes and pressing her hand against her own chest.

"Oh, my God..."

Demyx took off running, leaving the blanket behind on the concrete, before she had a chance to open her eyes.