This is the sequel to my other story, appropriately named "This following story". Some of the ideas in this story I came up before the other story, but this deals with everyone else. If you don't understand who everyone else is…you'll understand soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

Author's Notes: I suppose you do not have to read the first story if you can't for some reason, but it's probably best if you do. You'll understand the writing style better.

Some helpful hints: If 'she' is used, it refers to the PoV of the main character. If it is she that is in italics or is in bold (ex: she), then it means another girl besides the main character. I'm sorry if it's confusing.

On their sweet sixteen, their grandparents them all their bonds they bought for them over the years.

Her sister promised to save them and cash them and use them for future learning.

She said she would put in the bank so she could save up enough to buy a car.

She was sixteen. Between fourteen and fifteen, she dreamed of being a boy named Roxas, a Nobody, a bad guy, who wanted more then anything to find out who he was and have a heart. A fairy tale with an almost happy ending.

She thought she was crazy when the dreams began. But she found out her sister had similar dreams. But not quite the same. Her twin dreamed of a lonely girl named Naminé, also a Nobody, a witch, but never a truly evil or bad being. She was created from no one, but two people. Half of what Roxas was. Born at the same time.

They were already siblings then.

At sixteen, they could still be found in each other's rooms. It was so much more comfortable at night to not feel lost and hear identical rhythms of breathing and beats.

This story is not just them. It would be all of them.

---

She walked past a bar. She walked past it several times before. She went in several times for a drink after practices if she had the money, the time, and the energy. Non-alcoholic, of course.

This was the first time she saw him. The first thing she noticed was he was black. She was not racist, but at school and on her team, the majority of students had light pigment in their skin. It did not offend her: She simply noticed it.

His hair was buzzed off closed to his head. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white sleeveless shirt. He was by himself at a pool table. Nobody else played with him, so she assumed he was practicing.

She entered the establishment and took a seat at an empty table and she watched him play. He took the cue-stick and applied a bit more blue chalk. His gangly formed leaned over the table and brought the stick back. Another shot.

"You play?"

She was shocked when he asked it suddenly. She actually pointed to herself and asked, "Me?" ever so softly.

He nodded to her.

She shook her head and said, "No."

He grinned, white teeth bright against his skin. "Shame."

Eventually, she finished her drink and left, not once looking back.

---

She realized who Xigbar was first.

It had been an accident, but cause and effect led her to him. She picked a fight with a line backer at school. On purpose. She heard rumors of the way the big mutt wanted her sister. Always the protector and the mock-brother, she told him off in various ways. One example was that if he touched her darling twin, she would leave him like the Queen left Ripley. And if he didn't under that analogy, it meant his chest would soon be a big cavity.

But she no longer had near-impossible skills at her side, nor large weapons at her disposal. And unlike most other sportsmen she was generally friends with, this near-man had a bad problem with women. Especially the ones who told him off. A future abuser, this one.

After practice the next evening, she half-ran down the streets, while him and three of his friends trailed her. She started to panic.

She saw "Brian's Gun Shop" and the open sign inviting her in.

She never went into a gun store before, but she assumed safety. Her dad had a few rifles locked in a cabinet and one hand gun he kept just incase of robbers. But she had never seen so many firing weapons in her life. The owner, a mid-30ish man with a cigarette in his mouth, looked up for a moment before going back to his papers. "Look, but don't touched." He mumbles around the stick.

She paid no mind to any guns, but stood near a shelf near the barred window and glanced out. She figured they saw her go in. But if they did, they might not try anything.

"Get behind the counter."

She looked at the Gun shop Owner with surprise, "What?"

"You ain't the first girl who ran in here to hid from hoodlums and you won't be the last girl to do it. Get behind the counter." He spoke rather calmly.

She wanted to say no, but they were coming and hell if she wasn't afraid of them more than this man. She walked over. He nodded his head to a cubby behind the counter. It looked to be the top part of a large filing cabinet. It wasn't too tall, but she squeezed easily inside it and could still sit up for the most part.

"Bring up your knees."

She did the commanded and he half-stood in front of her. She heard the door open. The only thing she could see was the owner emptying something metal on the counter. Silence, until, "Your underage"

"What?" That response and voice belong to the infamous meat-head player.

"You're underage. Unless you are window shopping or waiting for your legal guardian to come in, you cannot purchase a weapon legally. You can inherit one if you receive it unlicensed, but I am a licensed dealer and I don't sell guns illegally."

Another pause of silence. He never looked down at her.

"Was there a girl in here?" The man-boy asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Did you see a girl in here?" They had no proof she was here. The shop owner crossed his arms and stared them down. But the player was still trying.

"Is there another exit?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure there isn't one?"

"Yes."

Shuffle around, she heard the door open. "Common, she's gone."

"She went in here." A loud whisper, from the brute. "So…we can look around?

"Not behind the counter, not behind the closed door. If you want to see a display, you must have a parent or guardian." She knew they would wait for her. She did not think she wanted to wait any longer. The man bent down for a moment, grabbed another case, and gave her a grin and a wink that any of the boys about would be lecherous but on him it looked funny. She smiled when he stood back up and set the case down.

"Back in my day, during my time in the army," he started to prattle on as he slowly drew out some metal parts together. She could not see the parts, but the clinking was distinct, "We had to learn how to field strip all kinds of automatic weapons. Shame now a days you young men barely know the direction to point one of these finely made American weapons." Slide. "Gun violence is up, and it's always some kids gettin' shot because people know nothing'." A light slamming on the counter, "I get a whole lot of complains from my costumers." Click-titters. "Upsets me a bit." Slide-shush, chuck-chuck, "Any of you boys interested in joining the military?"

Silence. The veteran grabbed a box of ammunition and said so calmly, "Mighty shame."

"Let's go." Someone whispered. She could not tell which one it was.

She heard them step away, then the door closing. A few moments later, he peaked down and let out a harsh sound, "Daisy, what the hell are you messing with boys who are three times your size? What are you, 100 lbs?"

She glared up at him, "I told the big lug if he touched my sister, I'd make sure he wouldn't have the right tools left to want her."

The man snorted, then let out a full laughter, making him appear younger then the "Mail Call" look he seemed to be going for, "Well, little lady, I think you have a set." He backed away to let her get up. She stood up and glanced at him for a moment before walking out from behind the counter. "They'll stick around for a bit." He warned almost cheerfully, "You can stay until you think it's safe. Don't get many social visits."

She started him with something that is the child of a glare and a pout, but agreed and took a seat in the corner. He chuckled and remarked quietly, "Who would think a kid would really look like him?"

"Who?" For some reason, she did not want the silence.

"Ah…another kid I knew, I guess. He always gave me the same look, the little prick." He finished packing the pieces of whatever gun he pulled out back in their proper place. He took out his paper and pencil and started back to his paper-work, "Nah…guess I really don't know him." It looked to be some sort of forum. "Not cocky, just stubborn. He did listen and could shoot well, though a gun wasn't his specialty. Though…I might be crazy." He never stopped writing.

"What's that?" She hated being compared to others.

"Eh, because…It's complicated. A bad omen. XIII isn't really a good thing to think someone as." He said it as if he read it off his paper

Her blood froze and she stiffed and her brain wouldn't work.

The man reads it wrong. All damn wrong. "Don't worry, kid, I ain't crazy. Just have a wild imagination with numbers."

'No,' she thought, 'Not that, not that. Too damn close.' "What was your number?" She has to ask.

"What?" He looked up, slightly confused.

"Your number. Out of thirteen." She knew that in his world, she should not know the max number.

"Two." His attention was now focused on her.

"Xigbar…Number Two was Xigbar."

The pencil dropped and rolled off the counter. The cigarette also hit the floor. But then he smiled. Not a good or a bad smile, but it felt to her it should have belonged on a cyclops with elf ears and skunk hair. "Well, I'll be damned." He bent down to retrieve his stick. "The little dude is also here. Or, dudette now."

She stayed a few more hours, then Mr. Brain gave her a lift home.

--

The football player fond a new flavor in one of their cheer-leaders, so her sister was safe.

She walked by the bar again, but did not see the pool player. It disappointed her, so she signed and skipped the beverage for today.

---

Demxy was the next one she found. No, not found. Just bluntly guided to.

She typed in various names on search engines and found the, "Melodious Nocturne" playing at a coffee shop she had seen in some school ads. She asked Brain about it and he grinned and informed her, "The kid's still playing. Saw him play once. Saw a few others around." The man mumbled as he loaded casings into the cleaner.

"Who else?" She dared to ask.

He shook his head, "Some. Not everyone wants to think it could be real, little dude. Some…don't want to remember it." He tapped his chest and she understood.

"What about IX?" She asked quietly.

He smiled, "Why the hell do you think he named the band his title if he didn't want to be found?

---

She went under the guise of trying to find a good place to relax at with a friend of her sister's, another ball player, and a new couple who could only go out on dates if they were with a group.

She watched the performance, and stared at the guitar player/back up singer the whole time. A hat was given out for tips. She threw in a dollar with a note attached which read:

'Number II said to meet you. Invite me somewhere private."

-Girl by the Window

It took a half hour before his head appeared from the employee's only section.

She raised her hand and he grinned, waving his arm to indicate for her to come.

She stood up, said, "Excuse me," to the group and walked over to where she saw his head last.

She did not expect to be dragged out of the hallway to the back of the employee's lounge. There was no one else around, surprisingly.

"I'd take you to our van, but the rest of the band is there. They wouldn't understand." He was an older man but younger then the gun shop owner. Maybe in his early twenties. His skin was a baked tan-yellow, black eyes too wide for a grown man, and hair that reminded her of oil. It was done in some sort of messy braids. They were like pigtails, but there were several around his thick hair. She estimated that without the style, it would be straight and hang down to around his chin. His mouth was really large, too, which displayed a wide smile permanently. But the thing that struck her the most was the almost exertion he gave off. It reminded her of some of her younger cousins. "Now, don't tell me. Don't tell me!" He waved his finger back and froth as he talked, "…Larxene?"

"No."

He gave her a once over, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm very sure." The obscurity of the conversation. She wanted to laugh.

The man-child walked around, carefully inspected her. It was annoying, but it was just pure scrutiny. He touched her hair (She restrained herself from slapping him), and said, "Well, I'd say you look a little like XIII, but you know…" She let a small smile escaped and the man's expression turned to shock. "No! Really? But, but, but you're a, you're a…you have boobs!"

She always thought herself a witty person, but she was slightly surprised when her next sentenced came out of her mouth as if planned days ago, "I had doubts from Brian about who you were, but now I know he was right."

"Oh! There's nothing wrong with being a girl. Just…" He yet again looked her up and down, "You are a girl, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay!" He rubbed his hands nervously. "I mean, everyone else has at least kept their gender, but not that strange, if you think about it." He looked her over yet again. It would quite annoying, but still the gazed lacked any predations behind it. "Actually, you are the closest person to look like they did. Besides…gender. But yes, that's okay!" He grabbed some water. She noticed he had a slight accent, but could not place it. His voice was also much lower.

"So…you meant Xigbar."

"I think he prefers Brain."

"Yah I know…but, I mean..." He set the bottle down, "Would we be talking, here, if wasn't for the…dreams?"

"…No." Everything in the room went quiet, but she could still hear the small, background noises from outside. More so then maybe she should.

"Hey!" She looked up. He yet again fidgeted a little. "In case, you know, you're worried about it. I forgive you…well, not you-you. But you know…for doing me in." He then started up, biting on a little bit of tongue sticking out. "It wasn't really you-you either. But…yah."

She blinked, but then she understood, "Oh...sorry." She was surprised that she felt a little bad. More then a little bad, but it was a strange feeling. She felt guilt, but in a fantastic sort of way. In her coma, she did remember some events. The death of the other members were there and stronger then an other scenes. Though at the time he did not care.

Besides one of them.

"Jeez, already said I forgive." He made a grasp for his drink, then grinned after taking a sip, "Oh, you want to meet everyone?" He then slummed a little, "Oh yah, I have to ask permission first. But um…oh! You can meet IV." He moved his water away from him yet again and grabbed a piece of paper, "Actually," He un-capped a pen with his mouth, letting the top stay on his lips as he continued to speak, "He's my uncle. I'm half Indian on my papa's side; my mom is, like, English or whatever. So he's my mom's brother. Kinda funny: But again…yah, he'll wanna meet you." He gave the paper to her. She could see numbers on it. She grabbed it and looked over the address and phone number. It also had a smile face in the corner. "Oh ummm." He pulled out some slips from his pocket. "Coupons. So you know, will visit. Will you visit?"

"Yah." She was not lying, but didn't really know if she would.

He beamed, "Well, if you are curious, I know pretty much everyone that we know about is around. Not the Superior. But that…Oh! Talk to my uncle about it!" He messed with her hair. She frowned and straitened it all back out. "Oh yah, you are you!"

He walked her to the front. As she looked outside, she thought she saw a familiar set of dark slate shoulders and head bob away. Bu it was dark and so was he. She turned up and asked Danru about it, but he shrugged and said he did not see it.

---

She met with Vexen over a week later. It was after church; she still wore stiff and pretty clothing.

It was an office of some sort. Actually, it was one of those large building shared by many people at once for business. She was given the suite number, but gazed at the name to go with it. She started for a few moments before heading up to the office.

She was expected, but the older gentleman that greeted her looked surprised to see her, "I expected you to be…different." She had no idea if he meant herself, her clothing, or her sex. But it did not matter because she was equally surprised; the Chilly Alchemic was smaller, portlier, and lacked the long and blonde hair she could recall. No, it was a pepper and beginning to bald. His eyes were the same green, but with almost a bit of pleasure, she noticed they were much smaller even with the spectacles hanging off his nose.

"Should I leave?" In the dreams, she knew him a little. He was not a pleasant fellow to know. With a heart and a consciousness, who knew?

"No." He held out a hand. "I'm…curious as why you're here. As in…your existence this second time around." He gestured inside. "Sit."

She walked in and observed the place. It was compacted, but neat and clean. Not the cold type of hygienic of a hospital as she expected to see. They headed out from an empty receptionist desk and headed to a more private room. There were various sitting furniture around, a window that could opened out to the third floor, and a desk with one chair behind it and three in front of it. When she took a seat in the middle chair, he went into a small bathroom to the side. He came out with a glass of water. He set it in front of her and while he moved to the front of his desk, he asked, "What's your age?"

"My age?" She grabbed the drink, looking inside it a little. She did not think he put anything in it. But she had to wonder.

"Yes, your age. To make sure you aren't lying." He took a seat.

"I'm sixteen."

"I suppose then the occurrence started when you were fourteen?" He grabbed a note pad.

"Yes."

"And ended when you were fifteen?" He began to write.

"I…yes."

"You hesitated." He looked up at her.

"I…was in a coma for a couple of months." She was not quite sure if she should share or not. Then again, what could he do now with this information?

"Really." It was not a question, but an observation.

"I was…the months 'I' started to become…whole."

"Ah…interesting." He made no move to write this piece of information down, but she knew every word would be studied later. "Forgive me, but my 'memories' ended before your own time."

"Yah…that, that's right." Earlier dreams flashed before her eyes. It unnerved her a little how frank he was being. But, she wasn't really scared. She really could not give it a name. But an emotions like nervousness but not quite as fearful.

"Don't worry. Even if I'm behind, I'm still ahead all at once. A whole decade and all. You would have been only nine." He commented almost lightly. "Well, I suppose my youthful nephew set you here to explain my guess. Would you like me to explain a little on the dreams?"

She nodded.

"The dreams start at the age when yourself, them, a past life-however you wish to call it-became a Nobody. And only that time. Though if at the moment you dreamed at they thought about their past, then those details are also remembered." He glanced at her in a similar manner the musician did: Pure study. "You…never had your memories, so-"

"In the coma…I had flashes of what…he thought." She stated slowly, feeling uncomfortable. This bit of herself; this was the first time she spoke freely about it. Even more so then to her sister, "Only until I fully became a part of him did I wake up…"

"I see…there is a 'yet' to this end?" He took off his glasses and crossed his arms.

"I think I still dream beyond this point, but can't remember them clearly if at all. But I feel...like...the feelings I had before my more active ones started.

The old man made a noise in the back of his throat then he responded, "You may have some echoes of that original self. Your essence slept at the time, but could be conscious of certain senses experienced and then carried over." He set the eyeglasses down. "You know what REM sleep is?"

"Yah…that's when you dream."

"You know what the brain looks like when this happens?"

"Not really…" She remembered something she was told and decided that it would be wise to share it, "In my coma, that's what they said I was in. Or looked like it…which is strange for a lot of coma patients."

"Fascinating." She really had no idea if he found it truly fascinating or he was putting on airs, "Well, no one can really give an explanation on why we dream. Most agree that as sleep, regular deep sleep, is good for the physical aspect of the body and brain, dreams are healthy for the psyche. There are several theories to how dreams may be created. One states that they are a reflection of your daily life and the worries in it. That's the problem-focused theory. Like the typical standing in front of your class in only your underwear, which could symbolize vulnerability to social life or to a test. Some think it is a pure cognitive one. These are more of a replay daily life and may be altered a little, but are about fixing problems. Taking the example from above; you would dream about taking the test, just without any embarrassing situation. One of the theories list as subconscious worries manifesting in a saga. More of a…psychoanalytic approached. I cannot think of examples at the moment, but more like characters or figures in dreams represent people in your life and the subconscious wishes to them. A fourth is dreams that are created due to sensor depravation in sleep. Since you cannot experience reality to sleep, higher perception has been more or less shut off. The brain will then make up for this loss and randomly spark in areas of the mind. Such as you have the dream where the pumpkin starts singer children's songs with floated coke bottles dancing in the air while you jump from roof top to roof top to get to a wedding performed by a blow-dryer. These dreams have no meaning; they are just your brain compensating." She opened her mouth to say something, but rather not question about the strange example of a dream he gave, so she choose not to interrupt him, "Now, everyone seemed to experience each of these types of dreams once in a while, hence why these are all only theories. And it's rather hard to prove if any of these are true. As for our phenomena and my personal opinion, it is somewhat of a mix of the second and fourth examples. For some reason when the outer sensors closed, sometimes something else opens, but the dreams are perfectly linear. Or if you wish to be a little more colorful, a nice "spiritual gate" opens. But these do not affect deep sleep. No, the scans prove that."

"Scans?"

He smiled and for a moment, she felt a little scared. It held a familiar glaze to it. She suddenly thought that it would not matter since she could out-run him. "Sleep reading of the brain. Night terrors, such as walking in one's sleep actually happen in the deeper stages of sleep. Dreams, whether regular dreams or nightmares, happen in REM sleep. My nephew and I volunteered…and perhaps others. I suppose I am not aloud to say. Either way, the memories only appeared in REM sleep. Any questions?"

She read the desk tag of Dr. Morris. "What do you do?"

"I'm a psychiatrist."

---

"I forgot to ask him about the Superior." She confessed to the guitarist/sitarist some time after.

"What?" He paused in his practice.

"I forgot to ask."

"Oh." The man shrugged. "Ask him again."

"No."

"Why not?" He now pouted.

"I just don't feel…comfortable." She did not feel like explaining it, especially him. Their blood was too close now. Besides, it is hard to explain that she would not be comfortable having her psyche explored by this particular person. Or at least who he had been.

"He's a nice guy! No like before." It surprised her at his outburst, half because he guessed dead on. But the reason why he made the outburst did not surprise her.

"Just tell me." She was getting upset. It was not as if she had any obligation to stay here.

"Oh…well, he might not be around because…we would probably have found him or something. And um…" He tapped the side of his instrument, "Something to do with his element or something. And…well, think about it."

"Think about what?"

"DO you believe I is here?"

"No." She blinked and visible pause. She needed to think. She wondered why she actually was positively sure about this. What did that small word come out so easily?

No, she knew why. Because she could remember.

"Yah…I think so, too. I know he's not around. But I don't know why. And then there's-Oh, just talk to him about it!" He seemed almost uncomfortable with the issue.

She felt it at least. So she assumed he did, too. She still answered, "I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't like him." She hated how angry she felt. Then she nearly bit her tongue. She said the wrong tense, "I mean, I don't like him.

Too late as the twenty-year old something rolled his eyes and huffed, "Oh, it's not the same now. You are just like him!"

"Who?"

"Oh." He paused, then shrugged. "Someone else. You'll probably end up finding him. I know when he wants to; he'll come and find you." He went back to his music. "Especially you."

---

She went back to the bar and saw the black boy there. No, more like man. He had to be at least Danru's age. He played pool again and by himself again. She took her seat by the window.

"Why do you play by yourself?"

He did not stop playing, but answers, "I hustle."

"Hustle?"

His eyes rolled to her. His expression almost looked annoyed. "Hustle. If you don't know what it means then I'm not explaining it." He struck the solid yellow ball.

"I know what it means." She was a little surprised at how aggravate she felt. In fact, it made her want to point out moral flaws in the word, "Isn't it illegal?"

"Well, betting is illegal. But if you aren't as skilled as you appear to be…that's just 'the sword fight.'" He chalked the cue stick.

"'The sword fight?'"

"You know, off of the Princess Bride. The whole gig of them fighting with their right hand when they are actually left handed. They weren't as great as they let each other believe." He switched his body around to the opposite side and aimed the solid dark red-brown ball into a side pocket.

"I never saw Princess Bride." She kicked her legs out from her seat as a distraction.

Now he stood straight up, but leaned on his stick. He looked her up and down. "You kidding? Everyone's seen Princess Bride. Even boys watch the movies, and the title has 'Princess' and 'Bride.'"

"I still haven't seen the movie." She replied flatly.

"Alright, alright." He waved the stick a bit before pointed the stick at her, "Look, it maybe morally wrong, but I still get paid and if the suckers fall for it, they do." He moved back to the table.

"Well, I'll make sure to never play with you."

The man let out a sigh. "Wouldn't play you."

She frowned a little. "Why not?"

"Because kid, I just told you I hustle. I can probably guess your income is still through your mama and daddy and I know you ain't a sucker."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, "Why not?"

He leaned over the table and hit the solid orange-red ball in another corner pocket. "Call the black ball for me, will yah?"

---

The first thing the doctor did was hand her an article. "Read." He tells her.

She didn't question and took the paper. The article was a newspaper clip, a little crinkled and taking from two sections that had one of those small face pictures with it. The man in it had a lumber-jack beard and long, wiry hair. She would take him for a hippy, but his cold gazed made her think twice. The second piece appeared to actually be the first part of the article. On it were the assortment of various face pictures organized and cut to fit. They were all of different people. Some were in black and white, but most of them had smiles on their face. She skimmed each part, and could figure out what the article entailed; a few people and a family being slaughter and about the murder that did them in. There was a trial, and the defendant was sentenced for it. One of the sentences she had to stare at for a few moments: it was "cannibalism."

"I don't…what is it?" She was thinking, 'why show me this?'

"Samuel was my patient oh…under a decade ago. He was diagnosed with various metal aliments already in high school. I wasn't his original doctor." He took a deep breath. "No, I became his doctor when he turned twenty-one. He had very vivid dreams. Mine started a year or so before that. I also started looking for information in the secret meaning about my dreams as well as others who may have shared them." He paused and looked at the paper in her hands, "You understand so far?"

"Yes."

"Repeat the information."

"What?"

"Repeat the information." It really annoyed her how he said it exactly the same tone as he did before.

She huffed and looked at the picture of the man, "That guy was crazy…or "diagnosed with problems," and I'm guessing he had dreams while he was crazy, but the dreams were not from insanity…unless we are all insane."

"I assure you, yourself and everyone you have met is quite sane."

She glared at him, "So some how, you found out about his dreams and he became your patient."

"Precisely. More so since you have guessed ahead by only the clues I've given." He took another deep breath, "I was thrilled. Another person like me. As you know, I was one of the first six and my dreams have been going on for only a couple of years, so I could assume it would be six others, if my hypothesis had been right."

She interrupted him, "One through seven?"

"Ah, glad to see you are still bright. Yes. To be specific, it was VII." He took a sip of something from a glass she did not noticed was near him. It looked clear and probably potent. "We were not close as 'before,' but we became close such as a doctor and a patient." His expression turned troubled. "On reflection, he was enjoyable to speak to as soon as I got him on proper medication. He wanted to become a park tour guide or he had a dream for joining the military, but he had medication alarms and stressful situations were not safe for his disorder." He stood up, cup in his hand as he looked to be speaking to a crowed, "A girlfriend of his convinced him to get off of the pills…he remained well because of them." He shook his head sadly. "Unlike when he first experienced breakdowns-his diagnoses came sometime before his dreams-these new delusion included him as Saïx, but only more so." He sat his cup down and he cleaned his glasses on his vest for a moment before putting them back on his face. She waited patiently. "He only came to see me once during this time, wondering if I would help him again." He took his seat. "I told him to get on his medication."

"I only found out about what happened to him. He was involved in some unrelated weapons possession change where he was also accidentally injured. His fingerprints were linked to a string of serial killings. I did not believe it until I heard about the deaths; the killer took the hearts." She felt a little sick and set the article down. "He died a couple of years ago in a psyche ward; caught a bad case of TB. I had to be a witness at his case. At his incarceration, I had fear of suffering from insanity due to these visions like Samuel did." He grabbed his glasses again. "More so when it became apparent my younger sister's graduating son experience his own set of dreams." The man gave that oh-so-familiar crooked smile. "Luckily, I only have a bit of OCD and Danru probably has ADHD." The man's shoulders finally dropped and his body language returned to being his present self. "Any questions?"

"What happened to his girlfriend?"

The good doctored seemed surprised by the question, but let a chuckle out and answered, "If you mean…no, she was unharmed through all of this. The woman was one of those purest children who thought anything not grown in the ground was poison. She skipped the border some time before Samuel came to me." He to a sip of his drink then set it down and stared the girl down. "So, any other questions?"

"Did you know it was him? Like, how he acted? Was it apparent?"

He put his glasses down and looked to be pouting his lips up, but more then likely indicated he was deep in thought. The lips looked rather flushed against his graying bearded. "I think…there are familiarities in ourselves before we received any visions. Take my nephew. He's always been a jubilant child. Very excitable. Yet he did calm down somewhat after experience some of his…experience. Then again, he decided to become serious about being a musician during the whole time instead of presuming a more serious occupation." The doctor himself looked a little upset over the choice.

"I meant, now that you know everyone else is around…just by looking at someone, could you know if they were another member?" She wanted to be sure. Because she might just know. She was hopeful about it.

The man visibly pondered on this. "I suppose…Yes. Yes, when I met Brain, I knew it was him; Danru sent him over and let me have guess about it."

--

She walked to the bar. The young man was at his stool and took a drink and lit a smoke. She would take her usual seat by the window, but she felt bold today. She took the seat next to him at the bar. Ever since she saw him two months ago, she knew something. A familiarity she had no name for. But now she could give a guess. She could make an assumption. She knew who he could be.

And she hoped it was true.

She ordered her soda and neither said anything. She knew she might need to say something first. She needed an ice breaker. She looked at the liquid and had a flash.

"You ever heard of Melodious Nocturnes?"

"Sure." His voice, she noticed for the first time, lacked a familiar nasal quality or a voice that spoke with swollen cheeks. It's lower, but held the same airiness.

"You know the guitarist?" Her throat felt dry.

"Something like that." He took a very long drab.

She had to swallow. She never liked smoking or being around someone who smoked, but right now, on and around him, it looked too natural. More natural to her then the skin he wore.

"You…know why his band is called that?"

He made no reply, just put out the cigarette. She felt upset. This is not how it was suppose to be. She imagined it would be different. It should be different. She closed her eyes and just decided to take the plunge. "What's your-"

"You want to learn how to play pool?" He let go of the white cylinder and leaned over the table, mumbling ahead instead of looking straight at her.

"What?"

"I said, do you want to learn to play pool?" His eyes finally turned to her. She noticed they were a very dark hazel, almost a brown color: The ring around the iris was a dark green, while the center circling around the pupil splotched various shades of grassy with tan spots mixed together.

They weren't the eyes she wanted to see. This was not the answer she was looking for.

"Okay."

But did it matter?

Some other helpful hints incase you did not understand it:

If it list as he, it means a mention to her thinking or speaking about Roxas.

If it list as he, it means a mention to her thinking or speaking about Sora.