A/N: Apologies for such a ridiculously late update! Finally churned this out with a bit of prompting from the wonderful AkusaiMonth event. The usual warnings apply, with scenes and discussions that may be disturbing to some. Enjoy!

BONE OF CONTENTION

ISA, THE BOY WHO'D SHATTER

- five years before death -

I knew you were going to live.

I had dreamed your future suicide, where you were an adult, taller than you were now, with longer hair, emptier eyes and flames erupting from your fingertips. You still had years left to grow up into the image of my nightmare, and the collapse of Radiant Garden was something you'd inevitably survive. The promise of your suicide did not, however, guarantee that you would come back to live the rest of your life with me. This was left to chance, and it was a risk I wouldn't take.

I had never been yelled at the way Cid yelled at me, the moment I opened the hatch of Gummi Ship 1. He spluttered a tirade of swearwords from the pilot's chair and stumbled after me. He hollered so loudly, spittle hit my cheek; he seized my shoulder and my knees buckled at the weight of furious kindness I wasn't quite prepared for.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he had roared to begin with, but as his boots thundered against the metal and splashed into the flooded sand, next to my own drenched trainers, his voice broke. "Please, get back inside. I promise you we ain't gonna leave without them."

Cid's rough approach was just a desperate mask, a threatening exoskeleton to hide a horrible truth: that even as an adult, the most basic fears didn't go away. He was terrified for the same reason as me. In all his time in the Gummi Ship, jabbing buttons and checking gauges, Cid Highwind had never fastened his seatbelt; he had never fully submitted to the departure, not while Vincent was away from him.

Cid didn't say anything else after his initial outburst. His face muscles tightened and he blanked the hundreds of people still queuing on the beach to the trail of ships. The doors weren't opening for them, and at the forefront with Gummi Ship 1, we were the only ones who knew this.

We were fast losing the ground to stand on as the beach kept flooding, but you and Vincent came back within minutes of one another. The four of us dithered in a mix of relief and stress, and while Cid seized Vincent's arm and called him you fucking idiot, I couldn't reach for or even talk to you. My nails scraped the tops of your hands and you pushed past. "I'm all right, I'm all right," you said. "I'm fine, Isa, j-just leave it-"

Cid sealed the hatch shut. His lips thinned as he returned to the cockpit and whacked at the controls. "Everyone in?" he said.

"Everyone's in," Vincent replied quietly. He rifled through the ship's emergency cargo and took out a green towel. "Here."

It was for you, because you were drenched from head to toe and stank of seawater. Your teeth chattered and your hands trembled as you thanked Vincent and hobbled back to your seat. "I slipped." You rubbed at your face with the rough fabric and grinned. "I-it wasn't Elise. You know, from earlier. I thought it was her and I made a mistake. I slipped," you said again, and gestured at your shivering body. "Wh-what a klutz, huh?"

You couldn't stop shaking, and the moment I spoke, you took a shuddering breath and forced a grin. I couldn't believe you were expecting me to buy it.

"I'm so glad you're all right, Lea."

You threw my words back; I didn't know if they were born from anger or if they were actually brimming with affection. "You're all right. You're all right now, I promise."

You slid behind your towel and stared at the blank wall of the Gummi Ship. Yuffie tried to talk to you, but you didn't seem to hear. You switched off, became stock still, bare feet flat against the ribbed floor. I had to wonder how you never channelled the intensities of your emotions as innocent fidgets or twitches and instead, just let them flood your eyes.

I didn't press you for the truth. I didn't know how slipping had made you lose all clothes except for your trousers, how the beige material of the trousers themselves had been ripped away at both knees, how there were scratch marks on your face, how your fingernails were red underneath, how you came back incomplete, a charred husk of the person I loved.

I didn't want to know.

(I didn't deserve to know.)

-x-

Radiant Garden disappeared in silence. There was no sign the Gummi Ship had taken off or was even airborne, save for the roaring engines and the occasional lilt of our bodies in our seats. We had no windows to show where we were going and what we were leaving behind. Most passengers were still trying to overcome the loss of their world, and their quiet sobs hummed a solemn lullaby to the children on board.

You fell asleep quickly. You banished any distress, as though it really was something we could all bottle up and leave outside for the night, if we put our minds to it. You snored against the bare panels of the ship, damp hair stuck to the sides of your face, arms wrapped round Bunnymoon and Yuffie. You left me wide awake in the dark, on my own. My thoughts darted between the fire of your suicide and the hooked sneer of Leroy; I felt my problems were not just chasing me out of Radiant Garden: they were following me.

Vincent was the only other person awake. He paced up and down the aisle of the Ship, a steady pendulum to ward off nightmares, and when it was just my eyes that reflected the light of his pocket torch, he clicked it off and dragged over a toolbox. I watched as he closed the lid, secured the buckles and transformed the box into a seat. He sat down opposite me with a long, controlled sigh, apparently incapable of relaxing fully. He spoke to me, hoping I'd pick up the lifeline he'd thrown out, but I scrabbled helplessly.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you were all right." Vincent sounded utterly drained. In the harsh blue glow of the floor's strip lights, he couldn't hide the sweat and grime caked on his forehead and fringe, he couldn't mask the worry lines or the bloodshot eyes. There was something beyond this, though, beyond the customary dishevelment of a rescuer hard at work. I saw the strings of his smile, the waiflike signs of a soul bleeding out, that didn't exist unless you knew to look for them.

"I'm okay," I managed. "I've got Lea so I'm okay."

At the mention of your name, Vincent pursed his lips. He wore a peculiar expression - a mix of dislike and pity so strange, I could have imagined it - but when he turned back to me, he was warm again. "Merlin managed to send a definite tether coordinate to us a few hours ago - think of it like a rope reeling us in - and Cid has the other ships on an auto program to follow this one. I thought you'd like to know we have a destination."

I felt hope catch my breath. "What's the new place like?"

"It's difficult to say." Vincent ran his hands over his knees in thought. "Merlin performed a spell that enabled him to get ahead of us to search for a landing, but the transmission only works one way. He hasn't been able to communicate if he found a world or if he resorted to creating something entirely new."

I stopped fidgeting with the end of my seatbelt. In the brief pause, you snorted a little in your sleep as though subconsciously, you were as surprised as I was. "People can do that? Create worlds?"

"Merlin and FG in all likelihood can."

"FG?"

"Cid calls her that because he refuses to say the F word." Vincent smiles at the strange face I pull. "As in Fairy Godmother. FG and Merlin aren't even from our world. What happened to Radiant Garden subsequently happened to other places, including Merlin and FG's homes."

"A-and what did happen to Radiant Garden?"

Vincent sat back and started a little when he remembered he had nothing to lean against. "I don't know," he admitted, "but the universal response so far has been to run as far away from it as possible." He rubbed his knees again. "I understand it's a lot to take in."

But I shook my head, and thankfully, Vincent didn't question my relief. He knew there was a dark, awful secret buried in me that was better left unsaid: I had been more than ready to discard a world I believed had betrayed me, and there was a sickness in me that wondered if I had summoned this. To discover that there were more worlds out there, more chances for me to start again, even at the awful cost of Radiant Garden's destruction, it was the sparkling rope to shore I had been waiting for.

"Who are you?" I asked after a moment. "You reacted too...too well to everything so I was wondering...d-did you know what was going to happen?"

Vincent rested his elbows on his knees and sat forwards a little. "Not exactly," he said, with a grim smile. "We work for someone called Mickey, who in turn is a good friend of the King. Cid and I were Mickey's contingency plan."

"To rescue the residents."

"To use Mickey's Gummi Ship as a prototype and write a build program, that'd construct as many escape ships as possible. I'm just a programmer; Cid's just a pilot," Vincent corrected lightly.

It was hard for me not to put him on a pedestal. Vincent had saved my life, and he was continuing to repair it as though it was no difficult task at all. He seemed to know exactly where my wounds were and had the precision of a surgeon to heal them. I was being fixed, slowly but surely. I wondered why it was me Vincent had gravitated towards, and I came to the conclusion that perhaps, unintentionally - inexplicably, even - I was mending something in him.

"I don't think you're just a programmer," I said after a moment.

"No?"

"You rescued everyone on these ships. Everyone owes their life to you."

Vincent's head tilted ever so slightly. "Kindness isn't a bargaining chip. Besides, it was a team effort, and our work is far from done. When we arrive at the new world we will need as much help as possible. I think you'll make a good tech assistant, a junior programmer; what do you think?"

I knew exactly what I thought: the idea was wonderfully brilliant. I was fascinated that Vincent could write on a computer and turn his words into a world travelling ship. I wanted to try, to craft beauty from something so typically overlooked, to take myself by surprise, to belong.

"Do you really think I'd be good at it?"

"Are you daunted by numbers?"

"N-no."

"Good eye for detail? Good memory?"

I knew the entire night sky by heart once."Yes, I think so."

"And you're patient," concluded Vincent. "If you like, do you want to come over to the cockpit? We can't see much out of it but the navigation display might interest you and give you an idea of code input." When Vincent caught me glancing at you, he added, "Don't worry, they'll be okay. In fact, Yuffie could probably do with the extra space."

I got up, and only then did I fully appreciate how tall and sturdy Vincent was. I couldn't put an age to him just yet, but he may have been close to your father, as someone far wiser and smarter than us both. He loosened Yuffie's seatbelt and gently tugged her from your arms, and as I got up from my seat, Vincent laid her head down carefully. I watched, strangely comforted, as Vincent swept Yuffie's hair out of her eyes. He straightened up and cleared his throat. Then, without warning, he froze.

"...What?"

"Oh." The single syllable broke his impassive mask, and when I saw the sadness seep through, I thought I was intruding, that I was seeing the method behind the magic. "Oh no," he breathed. He stood up, and for the first time, he looked at me with pity. However, his hand didn't reach for me. He took a single step forward to your seat and the breach of personal space woke you up. You gave a startled grunt and shrank as far as your seat would allow, as if Vincent's gentle hands were about to throttle you.

"No, don't! Get away from me-" you half shouted. You whacked his arms, but Vincent wasn't reaching for you.

I suppose I had never seen what death looked like. My occasions with death had been kind, only existing as solemn readings and flowery graves, as elegant covers to the corpse underneath. Consequently, I wasn't quite prepared for the surge of sickening realisations, that this would be how my aunt, uncle and cousin looked right now, buried in the rubble of South Garden. This was how everyone still stranded at Radiant Garden would end up, cold and stiff, with blood running out their nose and eyes permanently locked in surprise, as though even after passing, their shock lived on.

"Oh my God...Wh-when? I was just-" You let out a strangled cry and turned your hands. They were shaking, and all the colour drained from your face as you stared at your palms, at the memories etched in them; and then to Vincent, to the navy cradle of his arms, where in them lay the lifeless body of Bunnymoon.

SAIX, THE LUNA DIVINER

- forty-five days after birth -

The Organisation does not forget my escape to Traverse Town. Even if it was a thoughtless action, a sudden break away from the mould of Isa, the fact remains I disobeyed orders and Xemnas himself had to retrieve me.

The moment I return, I have a mission brief handed to me, red letters telling me to walk circles down to the lower levels and sweep the floors. It's a careless, indifferent task; I am so insignificant a person, sparing imagination for even a punishment is too great a waste of energy.

I don't know what happens to Zexion. His inability to explain berserk was classed as a great failure, and I can only surmise it warranted an equally great admonishment. All I know is that something stopped his smirking.

I quite like the lower levels of the Castle. Its corridors are drawn with chains and endless ribbons, woven with pulsing light, a synthetic heartbeat, of being alive but not really so. No one ventures down here, not when there are impressive, ornate halls above, upholding the freckled night. There are only Dusks, and they watch me as curiously as I watch them; we sweep the pristine floors and they chatter, like crinkling paper. I study their zipped mouths and silent feet, and I wonder if that will one day be me - an imitation, a wayward guess at existence.

"They're the weaker forms. They didn't have inner strength to make it across as completely as we did." Xigbar materialises next to me. He pretends to be initiating a spontaneous check, when I know he is trying a plethora of combinations to unlock information. "When they lost to the darkness, they lost both their heart and will. So while you slipped the net and somehow joined the Nobodies, the truth is you're not much above these guys at all. Look at 'em, pathetic things."

Xigbar lifts a hand and there's a whistle, a streak of bright purple cutting through the air. One of the Dusks shrieks and gibbers, topples over with a dart in its back. Xigbar scoffs, his visible eye analysing my reaction. I keep a straight face, tie up Isa and lock his fierce panic behind my ribs.

"Vapid creatures." Xigbar itches beneath his ponytail and creases up into a light laugh as the Dusk swings up, splits its head into a gormless grin and carries on sweeping, left to right. He shoots it again. "See?" He stops smiling, face muscles taut. There are blemishes on his face I haven't noticed until now, lines and wrinkles that speak of anger. "So how did you do it? How did you, with no weapon, no element, just the capabilities of a Dusk, create a dark corridor to a place you've never set foot in?"

"I don't know; I just did." We keep our gazes on the injured Dusk. While I will it to regain its strength, Xigbar fires his gun every time it does. "Wouldn't you normally disguise your intrigue?"

"Intrigue! As if." Xigbar rolls his shoulders into a shrug. "I just got this bit of paper upstairs that says it's my mission to ask you some follow up questions. Gotta do my tasks 'cause I don't want to be sweeping floors any time soon, you know?" He slots his gun away. With a crooked smile, he feigns writing on a clipboard. "What thoughts crossed your mind when you created the portal?"

"I'm not answering any of your questions."

Xigbar sighs. "You really have no idea how you did it. How you're doing anything, full stop. You're blundering around on automatic and happen to hit all the bells as you pass. That's all you are - a fluke."

Finally, I trouble myself to meet his gaze. "That's all you hope I am, you mean." I step back, put space between us. Xigbar's lips twist into an ugly sneer. "There's a reason why you shoot the Dusk and not me. It's the same reason why you've only ever stood on the sidelines: I'm strong. As the Organisation's number Two, you won't challenge me because there's a chance I'll beat you. It might only be a chance, but it's a risk you won't take."

Xigbar's chin juts out as he responds with a tight lipped smirk. "Careful, kid," he murmurs. "I've only refrained because the Superior gave me explicit orders."

He thinks for a moment and the arrow gun comes back. The Dusks chatter behind me, but the gun is lifted to my face, to rest on the bridge of my nose. I stare up the barrel to the cold yellow eye. "As tempting as it is," Xigbar says, around a rehearsed smile, "I can't fight you yet. But the day the Superior lifts that ban will be when he orders your removal. You might not be feeling so cocky then."

He studies the gun between us as though he's only just spotted it. I blink, and Xigbar walks away. I listen to the retreating footfalls, of my own steady breaths. When he is out of earshot, I drop the broom and sit on my haunches. "Come on. It's all right."

The injured Dusk chitters in protest, but the circle it traces round me is near enough. With a little grunt, I pull out a dart. It dissipates, crumbling in the heat of my palm. The Dusk watches and shudders, and its companions edge closer, like children inspecting a bug.

"Stand still; don't...gyrate or whatever it is you're doing." I repeat the process, this strange task of dissolving only the reminders of pain. When the remnants of Xigbar have gone, I press my lips together and I know quashing Number Two himself will not be so easy. Still, I know how to start, and that's to fill in the blanks of my memory.

My left hand touches the cold wall; the portal swirls into existence again. The Dusks grin.

-x-

I need to find out who I was. This, at least to me, will explain who I am now without the Organisation's involvement, without your spin on the story, without my body breaking down.

The portal takes me to Traverse Town, inadvertently to the same spot as before, as if there is a thread at these concrete slabs, pulling me back. The terrace juts from the large white building behind me. A giant clock face bores down on the empty plaza. Puddles the depth of a fingernail fill the indents of floor tiles worn with use. Somewhere beyond the red roofs, a bell tolls.

I cross the plaza, thinking of weather vanes and green lamps. I wonder where Isa's taking me, when out the corner of my eye, I spot the damp steps and halfway up them, you.

I haven't seen you since Radiant Garden, not since you had buckled beneath the eaves of my old house and wept for Lea's mistakes. I'm not sure you've even recovered from it. There's a distinct detachment to the way you sit and stare, the back of your head resting on the top step, seeing beyond the black sky.

I sit down by your bent knees. Your uniform is wet from hours under the lightest of showers. "How did you get here?"

You shift your head a little, a vague acknowledgement. "Called in a favour with Lexaeus. You?"

"I created a portal. Again." I mirror your position, resting against the steps and tipping back to greet the rain. "It always takes me to the same place."

It takes a few seconds for you form even the most base of replies. "And where's that?"

"The terrace, up there by the white building." I risk a quick look, but you remain deadpan. I know your pulse will betray you, and your hand is right there next to mine, and I don't dare to reach out.

"There's nothing special about it," you say. (Special doesn't necessarily mean significant, though, says a voice in the back of my mind.)

"I like this world." I watch the neon sign above me, flashing between yellow and orange. "It has a certain vibe. Like it's home."

Your body language is not of someone who is at home, however, and I start to think that this statement has only ever applied to Isa. "I remember Bunnymoon died, when we were on the Ship," I mutter into the rain.

You take a deep, shuddering breath and with a grunt, you sit up. "Yeah, she did. Poor thing was scared to death." You give a sad smile. "Man, I loved that rabbit."

"So did I."

"You remember how she always did those little binkies? And how you'd take her out the hutch every time you were over?"

"I was her favourite," I tease quietly. "She never bit me."

"Ugh, she always bit me." You look over your shoulder to catch my laugh. "She never sat still for me either. I used to waste hours trying to catch her."

"Because she knew what you were up to. You didn't have a good handle on animals."

"Didn't have a handle on anything, to be honest." You lie back down on the steps, but this time, you reach for my hand. Together, we stare into the blackness of the sky. "She used to be called Hazel, remember?"

I think back to that first time I went round your house, when you had lifted the rabbit into my arms renamed her for the shadow of the moon. "She never looked like a Hazel."

The grip on my hand tightens. "But that's who she was. The original name matters, don't you think?"

The neon lights above us flash between orange and green, like the indecisive wave of my mind. "I think the name we live up to is the one that matters."

You tilt your head so that our temples touch. There's the smell of ashes, and I wonder if your facade is finally beginning to burn. "Do you think it's too late to start again?"

"Yeah."

"I wish I could. You know, wipe the slate clean and start fresh, like jumping to another world and resetting the sky."

I bite down on the words at the back of my throat - because you can rearrange the sky and her stars and the darkness will still be the same - and I will myself to rediscover my tolerance and patience. You sit up and slide, so your upper body presses against mine. Your kisses are silencing; they're repeated pleas for my ignorance to carry on.

"Sometime - I don't know how soon - you're going to remember everything." You draw back and wipe the rain from our faces. "You understand, right, if I ask you to hold back on those memories for as long as possible? Because this...coming back to Traverse Town, it's just..."

It'll open the floodgates.

You disregard my frustration with amnesia, the perilous situation it puts me in with the Organisation; instead, self-preservation is all that matters to you. You are desperate for the idyllic life of Isa and Lea to stay untarnished by the truth, and I know I should resent you, but I can only wish for the same.

In that moment, I realise why the amnesia exists in the first place. The Organisation has always argued that it's a defensive mechanism, brought in by Isa to protect me from the trauma of the past. However, if my mission in Radiant Garden was anything to go by, there is no trauma at all, just history. And so Isa's attempts to erase my memory, building me from berserk and loyalty alone, he isn't doing it to protect me.

I think he's protecting you.

"I want you to promise me something." You shield me from the rain, give me no room to escape. "Promise me you'll never come back to Traverse Town. Don't use your subconscious portals; don't come back here."

I prepare my own stakes, responding to the deep whispers of this world. "I will, if you answer just one question."

You pull back a fraction. Your hair's starting to sag beneath the weight of the rain, and it sticks to the sides of your face. I remember seawater, and the cold, empty stare you had on that Ship out of Radiant Garden. "Go on."

"You have to answer truthfully, and in turn I'll make my promise genuine."

"Go on," you say again.

I trace the marks under your eyes, these purple blemishes exclusive to Axel. "Did you ever cry? For Bunnymoon, or anyone we ever lost that day?"

I wait for your body to betray you, to stiffen with guilt and contort with twisted pride. But you reply as though you had long expected that question. "I never cried." You grab my wrist. "Now promise. Please."