So it occurred to me the other day that I've... never actually written anything substantial for these two. I've had this done for a while, really, but the site was being wonky with Type 2 Errors the last couple of times I tried to post this. So, here's hoping this time it works!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I do not own Kingdom Hearts, nor do I own the Broken Bird trope, from which this fic draws its inspiration.

Despite being born from darkness, Namine is unused to wandering about in the shadows.

It comes from her time in Castle Oblivion, she supposes – of striving for freedom, of pushing herself into memories, of fluttering furiously about like a trapped bird in a painfully white cage.

Of only hurting someone she so desperately wanted (wants) to only protect, even though he never needed it.

Maybe, then, that is why she finds refuge in the nighttime darkness now. Because the time she had spent surrounded by pristine walls had only given her fear and dread.

(But it also acquainted her with the best – the only – friend she has ever had.)

Ironic, Namine muses, even as she moves swiftly down one of the Twilight Town mansion's stairwells with all the silent grace of a songbird; ironic that despite her alleged lack of emotional capacity, she experienced so much conflict about his presence. DiZ would never believe her; he would scoff and perhaps even go to the trouble of tossing a bandage-wrapped hand in contempt of her delusions, and claim this is only an echo of something Kairi once felt.

Kairi. Thinking the name makes Namine feel torn as well, because she has the cinnamon-haired girl to thank for her existence, and yet at the same time has her to curse for her fears as well. If it hadn't been for Kairi, Marluxia's scheme would never have come to light; she would never have had to manipulate Sora the way she did.

The blonde girl lets out a soft sigh that integrates seamlessly into the sound of the manor's air conditioning. So many mixed emotions.

But Namine puts that out of her mind, for now, and focuses on why she had gotten out of bed at this hour in the first place.

At this point, she has left the mansion foyer behind, and now tiptoes through the slightly-ajar door to the library as quietly as she knows how. DiZ may claim to be a light sleeper, but she does not want to take any chances on just how easily she can wake him up.

When DiZ does not show up, however, she relaxes. Shake off the fear, think of other things; just like she had done to chase her terror away in Castle Oblivion.

But, like back then, only one person keeps her from succumbing to the fear. The person who she has awoken for tonight, the person she was trying to put back together again. Sora.

Thinking of him – of the boy who had fought so hard for her sake, even after learning she wasn't the one he sought – brings a surge of newfound determination to her veins, and she starts padding down the library stairs to the basement where he sleeps.

It takes Namine a few moments to get used to the interior decorum's change from the mansion walls' beige to the basement's computer-lit blue. Soon, though, she can see well enough to get a good grasp of her surroundings. The lights patented by the multiple computer bleed a trail of splotches into her vision every time she blinks, but she ignores that for now.

She half-expects to see her caretaker (used in the absolute loosest sense of the word, of course) dozing in the chair that sits in front of the basement's computer; terror briefly heats along her spine and stirs nausea at the thought. Thankfully, it takes her only an instant of holding her breath and daring to look over for her to see her fears are unfounded.

Relief fills her for maybe all of three seconds, before she realizes her absent-minded walking has carried her to the corridors within the mansion's basement. The pure whiteness of this place reminds Namine painfully of Castle Oblivion, and yet at the same time, excitement stirs within her at being this close.

Trembling fingers reach forward to push the door open, and all at once, the pristine color intensifies even more, almost blinding.

(For a fleeting moment, she has the idea that Sora's light caused it.)

The instant her eyes adjust to the shift in lighting, her gaze lands on the pod encasing the sleeping boy (the boy she had yearned for and almost destroyed).

Tentatively, she steps forward, places one hand on the surface of his prison. It feels icy cold and smooth under her bare palm, and it occurs to her that she has never touched it before – never gotten this near to it, in the past.

Mostly, it's because it almost looks like a coffin, albeit a snow-colored, oval-shaped one. Here, where it covers Sora's sleeping face, Namine can all too easily imagine him succumbing to the ultimate end. But although something in her chest (not her heart, no, not something that was never there) cries out at the thought, she knows he would never let death take him so easily.

The other reason she never comes here… A sigh escapes her, mars the otherwise-pure silence of the room.

It's because this place serves to remind her of how she had done this to him.

She doesn't dwell on it for long, though; she can almost hear him chiding her for having those self-deprecating thoughts.

Fast on his memory's heels come other memories, ones that she would rather have remained hidden beneath the present's thoughts. Her fingers curl into tight fists against Sora's pod, even as his voice echoes in her head.

Maybe my memories are fake. But the promise is real to me.

That's why… I'll keep it.

Just thinking of it – of how he had been willing to smile for and protect even her, the witch who ensnared him in the Organization's trap – all but coaxes what DiZ says is impossible to her eyes.

And in a sudden surge of defiance, she pushes everything DiZ said aside and allows herself, for just a moment, to cry. To think about how she had taken his light and his strength and all but broken them apart in the process of trying to put him back together.

(Don't cry, Sora says.)

She only becomes aware of moving forward to press her forehead against the porcelain of Sora's pod (coffin) when the cold all but bolts her in place. And in spite of her prior misgivings, she knows why she has moved so close now.

Because this way, it's all too easy to imagine his warmth replacing the inhuman cold against her forehead, and his heartbeat replacing the eerie silence around her.

I'm sorry, she wants to whisper, but knows that he won't hear a word.

And really, isn't it better this way? For him to forget about her, the girl who never existed, in exchange for the pretty redhead who he held (holds) in such high regard?

Namine can almost hear him, even now. Almost as if his voice vibrates through the porcelain surrounding him and echoes in her ears as it does now. I'll be back soon, Namine, you don't need to worry, you're helping to bring me back.

(And even in her mind's eye, his smile shines with an unrivaled brilliance, as trusting as it had the day he had gone to sleep here.)

Maybe that's what does it. The catalyst that allows tentative confidence to push its way carefully past the bonds of fear that had wound so tightly around her emotions.

But she feels the tears begin to let up.

Namine – the witch, the usurper, the replacement, the Nobody – lifts her head off the pod's cool surface and gazes at it. The whiteness fills her vision and becomes all she knows and resurrects memories best left forgotten, but all she can think of are those sapphire eyes and that light that had never dimmed, even when he had chosen to have his wings clipped and destroyed.

A deep, calming breath issues out of her into the air, filling the silent room with stark noise before vanishing into the recesses of memory, as though it had never happened.

Because yes, Sora will forget about her. Yes, he will forsake her in place of the girl he is supposed to love, the princess he is supposed to save.

(Not the witch – the knight never saves the witch.

It never stops her from needing and becoming fascinated by him and his willingness to save anyone at all, though.)

Namine brushes her fingers against the surface and imagines she can feel his own fingertips pushing back from the other side.

For now, she thinks, they are the same; he is just as broken as she: a broken bird, albeit with stilled wings instead of missing ones.

But one day – one day, when his strength has returned, when those eyes she had come to treasure in so short a time open and glow with determination again – one day, that will change.

One day, on the distant horizon, when she might get a glimpse of that light again.

And so Namine whispers a promise.

"We'll probably never meet again," she murmurs, "and you'll forget me. But I'll never forget you. I promise."

She has remained silent this entire time, knowing that only the walls would hear what she might have to say. But this – this is something that needs to be said, and not necessarily heard.

It lifts a huge weight off her shoulders, a larger one than she would have thought possible.

As she sets off to go back to her room, she only knows she will work harder drawing out his memories tomorrow.

It's the least she can do for her savior, after all.

Gah Namine. Gah angst. I feel like I put too much angst into this. ._. What do you guys think?

Reviews are love!