Chapter: 009 - Distance

Chapter: 009 - Distance

Location: Dark Forest

Characters: Zexion (Lexaeus, Axel, Vexen, Marluxia, Larxene)

Ratings/Warnings: PG/None

Summary: Zexion's thoughts on their ill-fated Oblivion venture, and the current miserable trek through the forest.

Chapter 009: Dark Forest- Distance

Zexion had told himself from the start it would be a miserable, exhausting trek. He honestly wished he'd forced himself to believe it a little more.

This slogging about in the often-treacherous woods was positively dismal; if he didn't know the risks of using a portal of darkness, he'd simply teleport to somewhere drier. And warmer. And much, much more comfortable.

Ugh. If he'd known how terrible this would be, he might have put his two cents in with the others. But… well. Some existence was better than none, he supposed, and none was just what they were going to get when (if, if, he had to remember that) the Organization found them.

He glanced at Lexaeus' broad back, and briefly debated asking him to carry him. Certainly, it would be peanuts for Lexaeus to give him a piggy-back ride through this place.

…but, no, the neophytes would talk, then, even more than they were talking now.

Pride before comfort, he supposed.

But still. It would be better.

Looking back down, lest he miss his footing, slip on the clay-covered stones and go tumbling headlong into the brook, he considered his lot in "life", as it were.

I do not want to be alone again.

That was a sobering realization. Ienzo- oh, it had been so long ago- was a loner, one who studied away from the other Apprentices, more often than not, and was never truly a part of their close fellowship. He had considered them his friends, yes, as much as Ienzo had ever befriended anyone.

Now, with that taste of being so alone, of having the only ones around you ones that desperately wanted you out of the picture, he knew he did not want that again. Call it survival instinct, call it something more complicated than that, but he did not want to lose his companions once again.

He had shown no remorse over sending Lexaeus to his death. He had felt no remorse for it. He had not mentioned it to his bedmate. Nor had the larger man brought it up.

It hung between them still, he knew, and he could nearly see it. It felt like a wall, sometimes, when the silence between them wasn't as comfortable as it once had been; when Lexaeus was just a little cold, just a little distant.

He told himself Lexaeus would have done the same to him. They were Nobodies. It had been the best thing to do.

But he had sent Lexaeus to his death.

And now… now it bothered him. It rankled. It ate at the back of his mind. It was the itch he couldn't scratch, the puzzle he couldn't unravel.

He was not supposed to care.

…so why did he? Did he even? What was going on?

He slipped, turning his ankle between the rocks and started to topple. He twisted himself, pulling so his foot was no longer trapped between the rocks as he fell; he didn't need a broken ankle or foot in this wilderness. Gritting his teeth, he could do nothing but fall, and think how very much this was probably going to hurt if he hit the rocks sticking out of the water.

A hand fisted itself in his shirt and hauled him upright. He stared up at Lexaeus, who simply, impassively returned the stare. The line ground to a halt, Marluxia continuing on twenty feet or so before realizing no one was following him.

"What's the hold up?" Larxene sniped, wiping mud from her pants leg and flinging it aside. "Can't wait to stare into each others' eyes until tonight?"

Zexion shot her a venomous glare; the moment shattered and Lexaeus finished straightening him, letting go. "Are you hurt?" he asked, and his tone had just that touch of distance that Zexion had come to hate.

"No, nothing I can't deal with," he said, as calmly and as formally as he could manage. "I'll be fine."

"You should walk in front of me," Lexaeus motioned for him to do so. "That way, I will catch you, should you fall."

Zexion blinked and looked at his face again, searching, then he nodded slightly. "Thank you," he said, and he found that he meant it.

He took the position directly behind Marluxia, and tested his ankle- sore, but definitely not sprained or even strained. With a nod, he started off after the Assassin, pleased to feel Lexaeus' presence at his back, rather than Axel's.

Axel. Now, there was food for thought. Zexion would have preferred to have the redhead up front, where he could keep an eye on him.

That bastard certainly dominated his thoughts about Axel, along with backstabbing traitor and murderer.

Zexion had a reason to hate Axel. Unbidden, his hand crept up to his throat, before he forced it down. He hoped Lexaeus' body hid his from Axel's view, but there was no chance it did one-hundred percent.

And he did not want to let the traitor know how he affected him.

He did not want to be afraid of Axel. But what other choice did he have? He was constantly on guard around him, because he had betrayed them all once- who'd say he wouldn't do it again?

Zexion's mind could only paint the picture of Axel, returning to The World That Never Was, claiming how it had been such a challenge to hunt them all down and destroy them one by one, but oh, he had succeeded in destroying the "traitors" to Xemnas and now had returned, so faithfully, to his Superior.

The mere thought made his gut clench in anger (and fear, but he refused to admit that- Nobodies did not feel fear. They technically didn't feel anger either, but that was right out, or Saix wouldn't exist, period). They were not the traitors! They had never been the traitors! Axel had double-crossed them, double-crossed them all!

His throat closed up, and he stumbled again before recovering on his own. He heard Lexaeus make a quiet sound behind him, and waved him off. He didn't need that. He couldn't face the man at the moment. Couldn't turn around and see Axel behind him somewhere.

At least, there was no Riku Replica here.

Powers, he still wanted to strangle Vexen for that idea.

He swallowed hard, and shook his head. He had to get himself under control, and soon. He couldn't lean on Lexaeus for support, not openly. That would be used against him.

Perhaps even by Lexaeus.

I need to speak to him. Alone. Truly alone.

Digging his nails into the palms of his hands helped, the small pain making it easier to focus, easier to stand upright and take himself in hand.

He would move along this river… creek… thing, whatever it was, and stay with the group.

For survival's sake.

For as lost as he was with them… without them, he was utterly doomed.