Terraqua Dreams⭐

Of course, Terra hadn’t been all right. No one had been able to wake him, and while Curaga appeared to heal his physical wounds, it also did not wake him up. And so they’d taken him to Radiant Garden, to be examined by Ansem the Wise and his apprentices. Now, they were waiting outside Ansem the Wise’s castle in Radiant Garden, for someone to come out and give them an update on Terra’s condition.

Aqua couldn’t stop pacing. It had been hours since they had brought Terra to Radiant Garden via the Gummi Ship, and Ansem the Wise and his apprentices had taken him into their surgery room to examine and hopefully operate on him.

‘Why couldn’t he just let me take it? I could’ve shielded myself, I could have…’

‘You know how Terra is,’ Ventus said quietly. Ven had arrived quickly, as soon as he’d gotten Aqua’s message about what had happened. ‘He’d die before he let either of us get hurt like that.’

She felt treacherous tears sting her eyes but didn’t try to wipe them away. She didn’t want to bring any attention to them, and besides, maybe she ignored them they would just disappear. One could hope.

‘I know, Ven,’ she whispered. ‘I just… I hate this so much. Terra looks so badly hurt… I don’t know what we’d do without him if he dies.’

I don’t know what I’d do without him. Terra had been a constant in her life since she’d first started training to be a keyblade wielder, at age of ten. She hadn’t gotten along with him at first, finding him annoying and off-putting, but gradually, as the years passed, she began to see the traits of his that no one else save maybe Master Eraqus saw—his warmth, his kindness, his protective nature, his stubbornness and care. And so gradually, over the years they’d gone from strangers to friends to best friends and rivals. And Aqua had realised that she cared for him much more than she could ever say and couldn’t bear to lose him. Her, Terra and Ven being separated for over ten years due to Xehanort had only strengthened her feelings.    

‘He’s not going to die,’ Ven said confidently. ‘Don’t think like that, Aqua. Remember what Master Yen Sid said? It’s important for us to believe. Terra’ll find his way back to us, you’ll see.’

Yes… she remembered. Master Yen Sid had said the same thing when she awakened in the Mysterious Tower with a comatose Ven, so many years ago. It had been easy to believe then, but now she’d experienced too much darkness to ever think that way again.

------------

Some time later, Aqua didn’t know when, Ansem the Wise finally appeared outside the castle gates, looking tired with dark shadows under his eyes.

Aqua and Ven, Riku, Sora and Kairi immediately turned toward him. He smiled at them in greeting.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long,’ he said. ‘Our examination took us longer than we had expected.’

‘Please…’ Aqua forced her voice to stay calm. ‘Will Terra be all right?’

Ansem looked at her gravely. ‘He will live,’ he said. ‘But his condition is uncertain…’

Her heart hammered in her chest at the words. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It seems that the attack Terra bore the brunt of, infected him with a dark virus,’ Ansem said gently to her. ‘Because of this he is comatose—his mind subconsciously did this in an attempt to protect his heart. He will live, but we don’t know when he will wake up or what his condition will be like when he does.’

‘Oh…’

‘When can we take him home?’ Ven asked him.

‘We want to keep Terra here with us for further observation for another seven days. Then he can go home, provided his condition hasn’t gotten any worse,’ Ansem the Wise said.

‘Great!’ Ven said, trying to maintain an air of positivity. ‘Right, Aqua?’

‘Yes… good.’ She forced her frozen lips to move. ‘Thank you, Master Ansem. You’ve done so much to help us.’

Ansem smiled sadly. ‘It is nothing, Master Aqua. I am happy to help, and so are my apprentices. I, too, have some affection for Terra, and it grieves me that he has been hurt like this. But please be assured that he will recover and wake up. He just needs time.’

‘Thank you,’ Aqua repeated, with tears stinging her eyes, and heard Ven echo her. ‘We’ll stay in Radiant Garden until Terra is ready to leave.’

------------

Seven days later, Aqua and Ventus took Terra home to the Land of Departure.

‘Call us if he gets worse or if he wakes up,’ Ienzo instructed them when they were about to board the gummi ship. Aqua got the impression that he, like Ansem the Wise, was also worried about Terra and cared about his wellbeing.

‘Of course, Ienzo,’ Aqua said. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve all done.’

‘It was nothing,’ the man said shyly.

And so they went home. They managed somehow miraculously to carry Terra to his bedroom in the castle, despite him being so heavy, and settled him in his bed. It would’ve made it much easier if they’d had someone else to help them, but Aqua had felt too distraught to really accept any help offered by Ansem and his apprentices.

The next days passed in a painful blur. Aqua busied herself with paperwork, while Ven went on missions to various worlds, usually paired with Roxas or Xion. After all, there were still worlds to protect and the Land of Departure to maintain, and Terra being injured didn’t change that. They went at it with a surprising intensity—neither of them wanted to think too much about Terra’s absence.     

But even with their days being occupied with their respective duties, they still made some time to sit at Terra’s bedside and talk to him about everything that’d been going on. They always had dinner in his bedroom, because Ven insisted that it would help Terra wake up sooner.  

If she was being honest with herself, Aqua thought, she’d insisted that she needed to stay in the Land of Departure to work on paperwork because she didn’t want to leave Terra while he was like this. Throughout each day she sat often with Terra, holding his hand and talking to him, sharing the thoughts in her heart like they’d used to do back when they were kids. When had they stopped doing that? She didn’t know. From time to time, she had a sudden urge to kiss him, but she restrained herself. It didn’t feel right to do it when Terra wasn’t awake to say anything about it.

‘I know you can’t hear me, but… I miss you. I wish you would wake up soon.’   

She refrained from speaking the other, more personal words that were at the front of her mouth. I love you. I need you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Her heart clenched at the thought of Terra never waking up. She’d already had to experience that with Ventus, though the younger boy had woken up eventually when Sora had used the Power of Waking to help guide Ven’s heart back into his body. She didn’t want to have to go through that again with Terra.

‘I swear, if you never wake up, or if it takes you ten years, I’ll never forgive you!’

---------------

Five days after they’d brought him home, Terra finally woke up. Ven was with him at the time—Aqua was preparing their dinner in the kitchen. When Ven had called out to her in such an urgent tone—“Aqua, Terra’s awake!” Aqua immediately dropped what she’d been doing and ran to Terra’s bedroom.

As she burst through the door, she found the sight of Terra sitting up staring at her with tired eyes, but very much awake. She felt as if her heart would burst with relief and joy.

‘Terra! You’re awake!’

Terra snorted slightly, but smiled at her. ‘Yeah… I guess I am.’ Then he rubbed the back of his head and a confused expression crossed his face. ‘What happened? The last thing I remember is fighting that giant Heartless and trying to block that attack you didn’t see.’

‘Well…’ Aqua and Ven glanced at each other. Aqua continued, ‘You were knocked unconscious and we—Sora, Riku, Kairi and I—couldn’t wake you up. We took you to Ansem’s laboratory and he said that you were infected with some kind of dark virus and that your mind put you into a coma to protect your heart. Do you feel all right now?’

Terra looked surprised but answered her readily. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Great!’ Ven said. ‘I’ll call Ansem the Wise to tell him.’   

Terra and Aqua were left alone as Ven ran out of the room. Aqua smiled fondly after Ven, then turned to Terra. ‘We’re about to have dinner,’ she told him. ‘You can join us—you must be hungry after being asleep for so long.’

Terra laughed. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be up to eating dinner. I feel ready to fall asleep again. I’m not sure I can even get out of bed.’

‘That’s okay,’ Aqua said. She gripped his hand and squeezed it gently. ‘You need a lot of rest to recover.’

Later, after dinner, she lay curled next to Terra on his bed, her hand in his, and she said the words that she couldn’t bear to say while he’d been unconscious.

He looked at her, surprised. ‘You really mean that?’

She looked into his tired, hopeful eyes and nodded. ‘Yes. I don’t know what I’d do without you. When the Heartless hurt you and you wouldn’t wake up, it scared me a lot.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘When I took that blow for you, all I could think of was that I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought if anyone had to get hurt, it should be me.’   

‘Why should it be you?’ she challenged him. ‘We’re partners, Terra, remember? We look out for each other. You can’t protect me from everything. There’ll always be a point where I’ll get hurt.’

Terra looked away. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It was just—instinct.’

Aqua sighed. She really couldn’t blame him for doing what his heart told him to do. It was just that she’d been so scared for him. She didn’t want to feel like that ever again.

‘I know, Terra,’ she whispered. ‘I understand. I just was so scared. Don’t do that to me again. After everything we’ve all been through, I can’t handle another scare like that. I don’t want to lose you.’

‘You won’t lose me,’ he said to her gently. ‘I promise. I’ll be more careful from now on.’

She saw the honesty in his eyes and smiled. ‘Good,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘Now go to sleep. You need it.’

She hopped off the bed and started toward the doorway. When she was almost at the door, Terra called out to her.

‘Aqua?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I love you too,’ he said drowsily.

Terra didn’t entirely understand why she’d feel that way. Of course Aqua is a hero. She spent years trapped in the Realm of Darkness, never giving into it and always keeping faith in the light. She gave up her chance at rescue to save Riku, and not to mention she never stopped lighting his own way back to the Realm of Light. So there was no doubt in his mind of Aqua’s heroism.

‘You are a hero,’ he told her. ‘Trust me.’

‘But I’m not!’ Aqua shook her head, frustrated. ‘I may be good at my job, but when it mattered I failed! I failed to stop Xehanort, failed to save you and Ven, and I let myself be consumed by darkness. I don’t understand why anyone would call me a hero.’

‘You didn’t fail, Aqua. Yeah, you didn’t stop Xehanort in Radiant Garden, but you did save me, and you protected Ven. That’s not nothing.’

‘Yes, and look how that turned out,’ she said bitterly. ‘I ended up letting Xehanort loose to do whatever he wanted in the Realm of Light, while I was trapped in the Realm of Darkness. He destroyed so many worlds and lives and no one was there to stop him until it was almost too late.’

‘Then why did you do it?’ he challenged her. ‘You could’ve left me and Xehanort in the Realm of Darkness and you would’ve been free to keep the Realm of Light safe.’

She looked at him with glassy eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I just… reacted. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.’

Sometimes, in his worse moments, he wishes she’d left him and Xehanort in the Realm of Darkness and saved herself. Maybe he would’ve been completely lost to Xehanort’s darkness, but at least he wouldn’t have had to endure years of having his heart enslaved to Xehanort, doing Xehanort’s will, and enduring the memories of what Xehanort, Xemnas and Xehanort’s Heartless had done to the worlds. And Aqua wouldn’t have had to endure being trapped in the Realm of Darkness and would’ve been there to protect the worlds, as she was supposed to be.

But in his better moments, he is grateful to be alive and free and with Aqua and Ven again, even if he has to put up with the dark memories, the guilt and the trauma, and he’s glad Aqua chose the way she did.

‘If anyone isn’t a hero, it’s me,’ he added. ‘You at least tried to save the worlds. I went astray, got myself possessed by Xehanort and had to watch while he destroyed the worlds.’ And was also forced to help him, he thought but did not say.

‘Why would you say that?’ Aqua snapped. ‘You don’t get to call me a hero and then turn around and say that you’re not one. You’re one of the most heroic people I know.’

‘And you’re one of the most heroic people I know,’ he snapped back at her. Then her words sunk in properly and he said, ‘You really think that?’

‘Of course I do!’ Aqua’s eyes glared him, as if daring him to deny it. ‘You spent ten years never giving up, never falling to darkness, always fighting against Xehanort. You guided me when I was in the Realm of Darkness and protected me and Ven when he attacked us in Enchanted Dominion. And you saved our lives when he tried to kill us in the Keyblade Graveyard with his corrupted chains. Why wouldn’t I think you’re a hero?’

Oh. For a moment he didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought of himself as a hero, and everything he’d went through during his possession made him think that he definitely isn’t a hero. So for Aqua to call him one felt… strange. However, it also warmed his heart.        

Then he thought of something else and couldn’t help but laugh.

‘What is it?’ Aqua demanded, with some exasperation in her voice.

‘Well…’ He looked at her with gentle, dancing eyes. ‘If you think I’m a hero, and I think you’re a hero, then maybe we are heroes, at least to each other?’    

‘I…’ Aqua paused and thought about it for a moment. ‘I don’t know. I suppose that makes sense. But after everything, losing myself to darkness, attacking Mickey and Riku, failing so many times and making so many mistakes, it feels hard thinking of myself as a hero. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.’

‘I know what you mean,’ he said quietly. ‘I feel the same way. But we can try. Like Riku reminded me not so long ago, everyone makes mistakes. Even heroes.’

Aqua was silent for a long moment, then nodded. ‘You’re right. Riku is right, too. Do you think it’ll get easier, with time? Will we be able to forgive ourselves?’

“Give it to me.”

Terra held his breath and clenched his teeth behind tight lips so she wouldn’t see how nervous he was. 

“What if Rainfell doesn’t want me to hold it?”

She shrugged one shoulder and landed a hand to her hip. “I know it doesn’t mind.”

“What if Earthshaker reacts badly? Or something?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do… you not want me to wield it?”

“Of course I do.” Of course he didn’t.

Aqua squinted, reading whatever she wanted to read on his face, then rolled her eyes. “You’re taunting me.” She motioned with her hand. “Give it here.”

This wasn’t a duel, though, where Terra would taunt until she told him to be quiet. 

He needed an advantage. He needed to see what Rainfell would expose so he knew what to hide with Earthshaker. “Rainfell first.”

She slapped his hand away. “You were challenging me. Give it.”

He paused, but not long enough to make her suspicious. He summoned Earthshaker, and offered the hilt. 

She swapped Rainfell. Earthshaker sagged to the ground and her biceps flexed to keep it up. She stuck her tongue out at him. “I can carry it fine.”

Rainfell was bizarrely light-weight. Already, its energy swirled up his forearm. It knew his touch was foreign, and its frequency invaded his mind like it was sniffing him out. It recognized him. Terra had to hold Rainfell firm as if it was strapped to a leash, only because it was a Keyblade that created its strength through a buildup of magic in order to stand up against Earthshaker’s massive girth. Therefore, it needed persistent and meticulous control. Otherwise, it spun. 

Aqua worked on her unstable posture as she swung Earthshaker, frowning. 

“Are you sure it’s not too heavy for you?”

She frowned harder. Earthshaker was burdensome. His Keyblade was the entire reason why Terra built this much muscle to prove himself to Earthshaker’s unwavering judgment. When Aqua swung, she lost the tiniest bit of momentum as her dexterity overcorrected. 

“Why are you—” She pinched her lips.

Terra held his breath. Rainfell hummed, reading a book he was trying to snap closed. “What?”

Aqua let Earthshaker fall. Its teeth landed on the ground with a thud and Terra flinched. “Terra, do you have something to say to me?”

Terra swallowed. “No.”

“Then why do you… Terra, I’m not holier than you.”

“Excuse me?” His heart hammered. This was a stars-cursed idea, and he couldn’t keep down the feelings that he never wanted surfaced. Memories of Aqua losing one duel, or scoring lower than him on a test, and how he had measured his worth against her by numbers: grades, wins, and the number of her losses which equated to the number of times he went to bed reassured that he looked like a hero standing next to her. 

“Is that what you’re worried about? That you’re—?” She looked away. “This is so childish.”

“If you’re attacking me, why are you so defensive?”

“I’m not attacking you.”

“I’m not childish.”

“I’m trying to knock some sense into you.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Rainfell jarred in his fist. It was about to lose control. And Terra needed to stay in control. Terra gripped it tighter, and Aqua actually yelped. Rainfell grew dark and heated, like he had a hand inside her lungs. 

Really dark. Admiration hiding behind large tomes turned into daggers across a classroom and nights full of worries. Studying extra to outwin the next fight. How Aqua relied so much on speed and learned Terra so well that she learned how to outwit everything anyone threw at her so in the end, her chin, and the crown she wore on her head, was held highest. Terra became force unmoving, so he made Aqua unbeatable.

Earthshaker must be angry too. 

“You think you know everything?” Terra said before he stopped himself. “Between you and me, I’m not the favorite.”

Aqua’s lips trembled before she steadied them. “I have never said that. Ever.”

“You don't have to. You don’t say half of what’s on your mind to begin with.”

“Forget this. Give me Rainfell back.”

“I’m not done.” But Terra stopped. Suddenly Rainfell… cried? Aqua’s face was brave, her eyes boring into his and ready for the challenge. But Rainfell? 

Terra lowered his voice, lowered his defenses, and breathed slowly. Gently, he said, “I’m sorry. But you’re not right.”

The knot in Aqua’s throat bobbed. 

“You matter to the Master just as much as I do,” Terra said. 

Aqua stared at the grass. “He sees you as his son. I have to work to get that same attention.”

“Oh, you want him to be hard on you?” Terra scoffed, too accusatory. “Are you kidding me? He’s easier on you because he trusts that you’re—” He almost said better. “Good. More than that, you shine. You’re brilliant.”

Aqua gaped, and Earthshaker sagged from the weight of Terra’s implied inferiority. Stars. Rainfell stilled, like it gulped a fist of air. 

“Brilliant?” Rainfell weeped with her, and Terra could cry with her. He was stupid. “Terra, all I’m trying to say is we’re going to perform just fine in the exam.”

Would they though? Terra didn’t say it, but Rainfell understood. Aqua shook her head in denial and wiped a tear from her face. For not saying anything, Aqua said so much. Rainfell reached to him for a hug, and Terra felt the welcome of a blanket in winter. 

Stars. Terra’s heart hammered, and of course, Earthshaker sent her the same signals. A hug for what he didn’t want to ever talk about with her. Aqua, all I’ve ever wanted was to match up to you. He kept that to himself, and he wasn’t certain if Earthshaker had the capability to translate it. He hoped not.

But Aqua nodded, and brought Earthshaker’s hilt to her forehead, whispering a prayer.

Terra didn’t hear the prayer, but he felt the intention: a truce. Terra though hated this image of Aqua offering an olive branch when this shouldn’t have happened in the first place. 

Terra twirled Rainfell. It was calm in his grip, trusting him. Apology accepted. So how would they move on? 

Again, it was time for the playful approach. “I don’t know how you can fight with this. It’s like a feather.” 

Aqua laughed into Earthshaker’s hilt. And Terra felt it, like a breath on his cheek with her arms around him. “It will electrocute you,” she said.

“Oh, whatever. All I would feel is a little zap on the wrist.” Bingo—his intention to lighten the mood worked and she rolled her eyes. He flipped Rainfell in the air and caught it. “See? Easy. Earthshaker could break your face.”

“Wouldn’t that mean Earthshaker would break your face if I’m the one holding it?” She smirked with haughtiness. Stars, he loved it when she did that.

“If you can wield it properly.”

“I am.”

Stars, he loved it when she spoke to him that way.

“If I swing Rainfell too hard, it will snap in half.”

“I can sit here and tolerate your useless excuses or we can actually spar.”

He opened his arms as if to expose himself to a direct strike, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to take a swing. “Your funeral.”

“Don’t you mean yours?”

He stepped closer to get in her face, and for some reason, Rainfell jolted like a heart skipped.

“The truth is, I’m stronger than you.” He tapped Earthshaker, and again, Rainfell jumped, its vibration beating. 

For some reason, Aqua’s breath trembled. “Prove it,” she whispered, and one more time, Rainfell throbbed. It liked this? She liked this?

He liked it, too.

Stars, he shouldn't indulge. He struck her with Rainfell and she defended, although Earthshaker made her sluggish, hanging too low. Aqua held her ground. She shook, but she fortified herself with her magic against his brute blow. 

“I just did,” he said, near whispering, Rainfell too excited now.

She smirked. "No, you didn't," she said, her breath on his face. Biceps and forearms flexing, she filled Earthshaker with her spells, and pushed him off. Their blades slid and cracked with sparks before disconnecting. 

She smiled (blushed?), and flicked her head to get her hair out of her eyes.

"Made you sweat, didn't I?" Terra felt proud of that. Earthshaker was too cumbersome for her style, making this an eventual easy win.

Somehow, she was prouder. "Made you nervous, didn't I?"

Terra bit his lip. His heart was about to crawl out of his esophagus if she was going to keep talking to him like that. He swung Rainfell in slices around himself. "Again. But hold Earthshaker right this time? You're embarrassing yourself."

Aqua lifted Earthshaker to test its weight and find an equilibrium for herself. Earthshaker fell, unbalanced, and she caught the blade with her free hand before it hit her head. 

“So ridiculous,” she muttered. “Your craftsmanship is ridiculous.” But that wasn’t what Terra felt. Adoration. She caressed his blade, and Terra wished she adored his physique. 

Yet wasn’t Earthshaker an extension of his muscle? Could he let himself have that daydream, of her admiring him? Of her tracing the divots on his skin? Could imagine himself tracing the clavicle peeking out of her leotard?

Wait. What was Rainfell doing, swelling in his hand?

Terra shouldn’t be thinking this. Terra was too late. He felt a hand pressed on his chest, gliding down as Aqua's fingers skated over the edge of Earthshaker’s blade. Moving down to his navel. He gasped. 

Where was his mind? To spare his composure, Terra rolled his shoulders and… well, what he was supposed to say? That Rainfell looked like Aqua, curved and menacing, and that it made sense it was her counterpart to her fluid movement? To the way her body kept form so differently from him, like water that bent around his boulder?

That hand moved lower.

Where was Rainfell? In his hand, squeezed too tightly. 

“Terra?” Her eyes were closed and she shivered.

He groaned. “Yeah?”

Rainfell responded—that hug it offered was now hands on his face, a thumb wiping the edge of his mouth. He nearly kissed it, but he would be kissing air. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He should give Rainfell back.

Where was his mind? Wishing her lips were gasping for his until he stopped breathing. 

Aqua brought her hand to her heart, concentrating on what Earthshaker was saying. 

“Come on,” Terra said, mortified at what exactly Earthshaker was saying. That traitor.

But Aqua heard, giving her the advantage. And Rainfell needed. Aqua's thumb stroked Earthshaker’s hilt, and her hand skated over the flat edge of his blade. Between Terra’s legs burned, and he stumbled back onto a tree. He touched his own lips, and pretended they were her fingers.

Wait, why was he the one holding himself up by the tree? Why was Aqua the one left standing? 

So he did the same. He stroked Rainfell’s blade with a firm finger and Aqua’s breath hitched. She closed her eyes and hunched over. Her lips were flushed. Panting. 

Her lips, her lips, her lips. Left standing. He should let it go. Release the feeling. Say they’re being silly. Wish they could go back to being children, to the day they met, to before when such things never crossed his mind… so he could experience this fall for her all over again until they inevitably came here, with his shoulders tense against bark while he savored his blood coursing across his body and he savored the image of her enjoying what she felt. Yes. Rainfell said yes.

He should not step forward. He should not drop Rainfell and run to her, snatching her into his arms, meeting his lips to hers, running his hands up her waist and gliding his fingers underneath her straps to feel the warmth of her bare skin. 

But he did. And she welcomed him. She held onto Earthshaker, and Terra thought yes, please touch it, please taste me, please let me touch you. Her free hand was in his hair, and she invited his tongue in, and her hips pressed onto his. 

In a moment, exactly what he wanted. In the next, the void. 

“What are we doing?” Aqua gasped and pulled away, dropping Earthshaker. It left Terra breathless.

“I don’t know.” But he did. She knew Earthshaker. He knew Rainfell. He knew they both wanted this.

Aqua wouldn’t say anything, and he needed to know. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sure what he was sorry for, except for the empty space between his hands. “I—Let me give you Rainfell back.”

So he would feel what she wasn’t saying. He was terrified Rainfell would tell him it was regret (please don’t let it be regret), but Aqua didn’t give him the chance. Aqua summoned it back before he could reach it. 

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and it sprung forward. “Terra, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

“But—”

“You—”

“I—”

“It’s okay.” Terra lifted his hands in surrender. “It’s okay. I… I liked it.” He reached for her but she hid her face behind her hands.

“Terra, all I wanted to say was that we are equals.”

Oh. “We are.”

A pause. “I... This is bad timing.” Another pause, and Terra was suspended, waiting for her word. “I can’t think here.”

"I-I'm sorry," he said.

Aqua left the thicket on the route back to the castle, away from her failed experiment.

“I’m sorry,” she kept saying. “I’m sorry.”

~*~

Sleeping on the floor? Means a sore back. 

Terra grunts when he sits up, and drags himself onto the loveseat, stretching his legs. He doesn’t remember his dreams, but honestly, he’s sick of dreaming, and doesn’t want another one for the rest of his life. 

Bleached sunlight pierces the windows, washing everything in a cold glow. It’s so quiet. Which is natural. The castle is too large for four people, let alone three. Yet unnatural. The grandfather clock in the study is broken, so there’s no tick-tick-tick. Instead, Terra can hear every groan in the wood, and cracked plaster decaying as the castle shifts in the wind, grasping onto splinters that will snap at any moment. His duty to do something to prevent the castle from collapsing entirely, or from his world losing itself to Darkness. 

But Earthshaker…

Terra extends his arm and flexes his fingers, waiting for the hum in the negative space between that signals his Keyblade answering the call. Suppose though, Terra has failed his Earthshaker, therefore he has failed himself, which means Earthshaker has passed its judgment on its very own wielder. 

Terra exhales. He’s making excuses. Terra is the one judging Terra. The Guardian is gone, vanquished by Terra’s Light. That’s what Ven said what happened. Terra has to believe that.

“Come on,” he says, begging this time, but it’s like Earthshaker is shaking its head. “What do you want me to do?”

No answer, just a vacancy. 

“So how am I going to fix anything?”

To be honest, Earthshaker wouldn’t have the answers anyway. It’s as clueless as Terra.

Terra gives up, rubbing the empty space between his fingers. Would Xehanort have this problem? 

No, Xehanort was a well of knowledge. Terra had felt it, in those years of blackness. Striding confidence, lustful curiosity, and unwavering strength that was a hurricane and an earthquake all at once. Everything that Terra still wants to be to this day, and in those years when he barely existed, he got a taste of what that felt like every time Xehanort won. Every time Xehanort…

Wielded his ornate silver Keyblade, the one with no name. Stars, that Keyblade is old, more ancient than the Defender, rich with secrets, and addicting to hold.

Terra extends his hand, and gracefully asks No Name to please answer his call, in a way like he’s bowing with respect and reverence. Maybe there is a connection between Terra and this Keyblade since they have made contact, skin to metal. There has to be. His heart bows even lower, head to the floor.

“Please, come,” he says. “I have questions, and I…”

Need you.

Terra snatches his hand back. What is he thinking?

Eraqus would have… what, punished Aqua for turning the way she did? Become disappointed in her? Be sad? Be sorry.

But where Eraqus saw failure, Xehanort would have seen opportunity for progress, experimentation, and resolution. Xehanort would have had answers. And if Xehanort were still alive, Terra today would have the resources he needs.

He extends his hand again. He’s willing to exchange all his power for a chance of pain, for a chance that Earthshaker will reject him if that’s the cost, for a chance to listen to what the Fairytale Keybearers have to whisper. All he needs is one clue he’s failed to notice. But No Name doesn’t reply.

Which means Terra isn’t…

“Terra!” Ven slams the door open. He waves his arms like an octopus electrocuted. “There’s those… those fucking things outside! Heartless!”

“What?” That’s impossible. The Land of Departure is supposed to be a fortress against forces that Dark.

Then again, those storms raged all night. 

“Stars,” Terra curses, and grabs the Master’s satchel full of the potions he brewed last night, then follows Ven. The castle shakes hard enough that Ven saves himself by holding onto the railing, where Terra nearly tumbles down the stairs. 

“What’s happening?” Ven cries out.

Darkness paints everything black, like nightfall with the new moon and no stars. Flickers. Then it brightens again. The Land of Departure is going to fall. 

“Terra?” 

There’s what sounds like a rumbling explosion, and they both hold on. Some part of the castle is crumbling into the canyon below. 

“Don’t worry,” Terra says. “Let’s go.”

Outside, storm clouds brush the sky dull and desaturated. Heartless approach from the mountain in factions, slithering everywhere, but they keep their distance from Defender at the Master’s memorial. 

Ven summons Wayward Wind and charges forward. Terra stays behind on the terrace, hurling explosive vials at Heartless near the castle. It’s a bad plan—a shitty one, if Terra gives himself the permission to use foul language. He only has seven vials.

Terra slams a vial into a Heartless jumping on him. It doesn’t do much except push it back. He needs his—

“You have no Keyblade?” Ven stumbles when a Heartless jumps onto his back. So Ven yells. Really yells, and circling blades of screeching Light wipes out the population of Heartless threatening the castle.

More come from the forest.

“When were you going to tell me you have no Keyblade?” Ven catches his breath, back at the terrace. He frowns from exhaustion. “Where is Earthshaker?”

“I don’t know.” 

Ven takes a moment to compose himself, then nods. He smiles something courageous and prepared, as if this is a test he’s been wanting to pass. A wish granted, really. Ven has always wanted to be trusted and relied on. “Stay here. I can take care of this.” 

“Wait, Ven—”

But Ven storms ahead, toward the next wave of Heartless. They’re impatient, crawling over each other in twitching mounds.

Terra has to do something. He jabs his hand into the satchel, but there are no more vials. 

What is he going to do? 

The Defender. On instinct, Terra dashes down the terrace and extends his hand, almost touching the dormant Keyblade waiting to be used. Almost. For a short, tiny moment, Terra hesitates. This Keyblade, like No Name, defines a Master. What if it rejects him, too?

That moment of hesitation is when Aqua arrives. She flies over the roof of the castle, her lithe body flipping before she lands on the ground. 

She summons her—a—Keyblade and faces Ven, ready to attack him.

Ven. Shock. Hangs back. Hand up to his face like he’s preparing for a blow.

Aqua. Furious.

“No!” Terra rushes and steps in front of Ven, his vulnerable, defenseless body a shield. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Wait, Terra,” Ven says.

“Ven, stay behind me.”

“Ven needs to stand down,” Aqua says, her voice steady.

It’s too much to swallow. Aqua. The Heartless. This strange Keyblade. “Aqua, our home is falling apart.”

“Stand. Down.” The Heartless behind her blend and separate, eyes and twig-like limbs engorged into their thin skin like they’re malleable clay. 

Terra needs a quiet moment, a clear head. “Whose Keyblade is that?” It’s tacky, unfitting for Aqua’s grace. 

“Some Keyblades don’t have Masters,” is her only answer. 

Like Defender. Like No Name. Aqua the Master of all. But this one is different. Where every Keyblade is a single bright star in the dark, this one comes from a white sky, and this star is black. An opposite, from the Realm of Darkness.

“Where is Rainfell?” It has to exist. Aqua’s star is still there, far away, hidden by expansive galaxies that a telescope is needed. But it’s there, so therefore, Rainfell lives.

Her jaw locks. “How do you think you survived falling into Darkness?”

Terra’s mouth goes dry. “No…”

“I gave it to you, so you could stay in the Realm of Light.”

Stars. Stars, stars, stars, please don’t let that be true. Again, Terra cries in front of her. 

In a pathetic attempt to get her approval and keep the situation under control, Terra weakly says, “We can find it. Together. I’ll help you.”

She stares.

“This isn’t right.” He waves at the Heartless squirming, who are waiting for her command to move forward. “This isn’t you.”

Her eyes widen in a wild glare. “What isn’t me, exactly?”

“You…” He doesn’t have an answer. “Aqua, I want to help. Isn’t that what you want from me?” Terra claws at his chest, wanting her to see how much his heart is hurting. “My help? Isn’t that the least you deserve? What else can I do for you? I want you better. I want you happy.”

“Better.” Again, she finds that offensive.

“Is that it, then?” He drops his hands, defeated. 

“Terra, stop.” Ven mumbles.

“That’s okay,” Terra continues. “It’s okay to hate me.”

Aqua shudders, that predatory rage about to burst.

“I hate you?” She steps forward, and Terra has the sense that she’s about to stab him.

“No.” He holds his hands up, yielding. After everything she’s been through for him, it’s never been hate. Not even close. “It was a stupid thing to say.”

“I hate you?” she repeats, through fangs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He wishes Rainfell were near, so he can touch it, and listen to what Aqua isn’t saying, and tell her what he’s too dense to articulate.

She pauses within a few feet. The Heartless inch closer.

“Aqua,” Ven pleads, “come on.”

“Aqua,” Terra says, “we can’t do this. You can’t let these Heartless stay. I mean we’re Keybearers.” 

“You think I forgot?”

“No. Stars, Aqua—”

“What would you do to them, Terra?” she says, raising her voice. “Where do you think they go if we vanquish them?”

“To Kingdom Hearts—”

“Do you even know where or what that is?” She points to the smallest one, straggling away from the hoard as it scratches its antenna. “You’d do that to her?”

“Her?”

“She’s just a little girl.”

Ven pulls on Terra’s shirt. “Stop fighting,” he says, so quietly. 

Terra reads her face, her deciphered language. Her frantic eyes, the way they shiver, looking for an answer far away in the moon she’s always seeing. 

“Aqua,” Terra says gently, needing to embrace her. Enclose the gap, fill the void between him and his Aqua, who will always be Aqua, and who will always have his heart. “I would never let that happen to you.”

“But you look at me like I’m the same as them.” She snarls. Which isn’t true, it isn’t. She’s living, she’s feeling. Huffing, Aqua composes herself. With a fist in the air, the Heartless retreat. “They stay.” 

“They can’t—”

“They stay in the forest and won’t go near the castle. You see?” she says with a sneer. “I want you happy, too.”

She dissipates, her fog following her little ones into the thicket. 

Terra, his adrenaline now dissolving, falls to his knees. He didn’t want to watch her leave. Didn’t. Doesn’t. Doesn’t ever want to watch her leave ever again. Please don’t go. 

Losing the strength to keep himself up, Terra keels over and lands on his forearms, dropping his head to the ground in silent tears. This spot, this is exactly the spot: Master Eraqus’s final resting place, now pummeled by tears.

Ven shifts his feet. “I don’t think she would have hurt me,” he says carefully, but unsure. 

“Ven, you need to know… The Master—”

“I know.” So gently, so quietly.

“I didn’t want to hurt him. I just wanted him to stop.”

“I know.”

Terra splinters, cracks, breaks into sobs. “I just wanted her to stop.” 

Ven kneels and rubs Terra’s back. “Hey, you know what? You did make her stop. Things are okay.”

Terra can’t breathe through the crying.

“Everything is calm now, see? You’re exactly what Zack says, even without a Keyblade.”

A hero? Ven says this to cheer Terra up, to show how much Terra matters to a boy who’s grown to look up and admire. Ven is so wrong. 

Ven gives Terra time to compose himself, and when the tears dry up and Terra’s eyes sting as he rubs them, he says, “I need to teach you something.”

Ven perks up. “Sure.”

“You’re going to create a barrier against the Heartless, so they don’t get to the castle.”

“But she said…”

“... Just in case.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Ven steps forward, gripping Wayward Wind in both his hands.

“It feels like pulling out a thread of your heart and orienting it into the ground." Terra settles, on his knees. "Remember to give her safe passage back home.”

“How do I do that?”

“Your Keyblade is your heart, Ven. You want her home.”

“Yeah. Okay, that makes sense.”

Ven draws on the ground with the tip of Wayward Wind, and a sparkling thread trails behind. A small little gesture, but powerful. He traces an arc around the patio, keeping the Master’s memorial protected as well. 

They wait a few minutes as lightning strikes green in the horizon.

“What do we do now?” Ven asks when he’s done. He doesn’t will Wayward Wind away, too tense to let go. 

“We do the back as well.”

“And then?”

Terra didn’t entirely understand why she’d feel that way. Of course Aqua is a hero. She spent years trapped in the Realm of Darkness, never giving into it and always keeping faith in the light. She gave up her chance at rescue to save Riku, and not to mention she never stopped lighting his own way back to the Realm of Light. So there was no doubt in his mind of Aqua’s heroism.

‘You are a hero,’ he told her. ‘Trust me.’

‘But I’m not!’ Aqua shook her head, frustrated. ‘I may be good at my job, but when it mattered I failed! I failed to stop Xehanort, failed to save you and Ven, and I let myself be consumed by darkness. I don’t understand why anyone would call me a hero.’

‘You didn’t fail, Aqua. Yeah, you didn’t stop Xehanort in Radiant Garden, but you did save me, and you protected Ven. That’s not nothing.’

‘Yes, and look how that turned out,’ she said bitterly. ‘I ended up letting Xehanort loose to do whatever he wanted in the Realm of Light, while I was trapped in the Realm of Darkness. He destroyed so many worlds and lives and no one was there to stop him until it was almost too late.’

‘Then why did you do it?’ he challenged her. ‘You could’ve left me and Xehanort in the Realm of Darkness and you would’ve been free to keep the Realm of Light safe.’

She looked at him with glassy eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I just… reacted. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.’

Sometimes, in his worse moments, he wishes she’d left him and Xehanort in the Realm of Darkness and saved herself. Maybe he would’ve been completely lost to Xehanort’s darkness, but at least he wouldn’t have had to endure years of having his heart enslaved to Xehanort, doing Xehanort’s will, and enduring the memories of what Xehanort, Xemnas and Xehanort’s Heartless had done to the worlds. And Aqua wouldn’t have had to endure being trapped in the Realm of Darkness and would’ve been there to protect the worlds, as she was supposed to be.

But in his better moments, he is grateful to be alive and free and with Aqua and Ven again, even if he has to put up with the dark memories, the guilt and the trauma, and he’s glad Aqua chose the way she did.

‘If anyone isn’t a hero, it’s me,’ he added. ‘You at least tried to save the worlds. I went astray, got myself possessed by Xehanort and had to watch while he destroyed the worlds.’ And was also forced to help him, he thought but did not say.

‘Why would you say that?’ Aqua snapped. ‘You don’t get to call me a hero and then turn around and say that you’re not one. You’re one of the most heroic people I know.’

‘And you’re one of the most heroic people I know,’ he snapped back at her. Then her words sunk in properly and he said, ‘You really think that?’

‘Of course I do!’ Aqua’s eyes glared him, as if daring him to deny it. ‘You spent ten years never giving up, never falling to darkness, always fighting against Xehanort. You guided me when I was in the Realm of Darkness and protected me and Ven when he attacked us in Enchanted Dominion. And you saved our lives when he tried to kill us in the Keyblade Graveyard with his corrupted chains. Why wouldn’t I think you’re a hero?’

Oh. For a moment he didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought of himself as a hero, and everything he’d went through during his possession made him think that he definitely isn’t a hero. So for Aqua to call him one felt… strange. However, it also warmed his heart.        

Then he thought of something else and couldn’t help but laugh.

‘What is it?’ Aqua demanded, with some exasperation in her voice.

‘Well…’ He looked at her with gentle, dancing eyes. ‘If you think I’m a hero, and I think you’re a hero, then maybe we are heroes, at least to each other?’    

‘I…’ Aqua paused and thought about it for a moment. ‘I don’t know. I suppose that makes sense. But after everything, losing myself to darkness, attacking Mickey and Riku, failing so many times and making so many mistakes, it feels hard thinking of myself as a hero. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.’

‘I know what you mean,’ he said quietly. ‘I feel the same way. But we can try. Like Riku reminded me not so long ago, everyone makes mistakes. Even heroes.’

Aqua was silent for a long moment, then nodded. ‘You’re right. Riku is right, too. Do you think it’ll get easier, with time? Will we be able to forgive ourselves?’

He finds Aqua curled up on the floor. The shattered glass remains of a mirror lay next to her.

‘Aqua?’ He approaches her tentatively, unsure what to expect from her. ‘I’m here.’

She jerks her head up and stares at him with wide eyes. ‘Terra? You’re supposed to be in the Realm of Light!’

‘I am in the Realm of Light. We both are,’ he reminds her. ‘Don’t you remember? You came back from the Realm of Darkness, woke Ven up, we all fought Xehanort and after it was all over we came home, to the Land of Departure.’

‘Home…’ She squints at him. It takes a long moment, but understanding fills her eyes. ‘Yes. I remember.’

He kneels on the glass-ridden floor and tries to hold her in his arms and still her trembling body, but she just jerks away from him with a wary, almost scared look in her eyes. He tries not to show how much that hurts. Xehanort used his body to cause so much pain to a lot of people, and he doesn’t blame anyone if they are wary of him at first. But it’s especially painful when Aqua shies away from him. Aqua, who usually is the first to defend him. It makes him wonder what she really thinks about him.   

‘What happened to the mirror?’ he asks gently. He has a fairly good idea of what happened, but he needs to hear it from her.

‘Mirror?’ Aqua frowns at him, then appears to remember. She looks at the broken glass on the floor. ‘I destroyed it. I saw her, my shadow… in there. She’s haunting me. I can’t escape her, even here…’

Then she cries. It breaks his heart to see the normally cool, collected Aqua crying, especially knowing that it is his fault. She would never have this trauma if she hadn’t been trapped in the Realm of Darkness, and she wouldn’t have been trapped there if it weren’t for him being possessed by Xehanort. So, it is his fault, no matter what she might say about that.

Part of him is unsure what to do, but he knows he can’t just leave her like this on the floor. So, to hell with any protest she might have. He pulls her into his arms, holds onto her tightly, and carries her out of the storeroom and to her bedroom. She doesn’t resist this time, to his relief. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if she’d fought back or refused to move.

He carries her to her bedroom and settles her in her bed. When he turns to go, he feels a cold hand grab his arm and hears Aqua rasp, ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Please?’

So he stays. He crawls underneath the bedcovers next to Aqua, and Aqua sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, as if she can relax with him there.

He doesn’t know how long they lay there together like this. Neither of them says anything and Aqua eventually drifts off into a surprisingly peaceful sleep. He on the other hand is plagued by unwelcome thoughts. Thoughts of Xehanort, of the darkness, of the damage he’d caused and the lives he’d ruined, and everything the old man had done while using his body. Aqua and Ventus had forgiven him (Terra), but he isn’t sure he can forgive himself. Especially after everything he did to Aqua.

Just past sunset, Aqua awakens and smiles tiredly at him.

‘Sleep well?’ he asks her.

She nods.

‘Good,’ he says, trying but failing to smile back at her. He can’t stop thinking those dark thoughts.

‘Thank you,’ Aqua breathes out. ‘For being there. And for staying.’ She smiles at him again, and he can’t help but think that she is so beautiful and he doesn’t really deserve her. How he could hurt her so easily with one twist of his big hands.  

‘You’re welcome,’ he says. ‘Always.’   

-------------- 

Three days later, Aqua walks into Terra’s bedroom to find him staring at his bedroom mirror.

She knows instantly what this means. He’s done this a few times already in the past since they came back, as if searching for any sign that Xehanort is still within him. He’s gone into some place deep inside of him. It doesn’t happen often, but that doesn’t make it any less scary to her.

‘Terra, he’s not here. Xehanort’s gone. You’re free.’

He doesn’t respond. Her heart clenches painfully. There are many things she can endure, but she couldn’t bear to lose Terra, especially not to whatever darkness he is in.

She grabs his hand, shakes it. Then she does the same to his shoulder. ‘Terra, please… he’s gone. You’re not him.’   

She’s practically begging, but she can’t help it. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she loses Terra again, and she doesn’t want to find out.

She keeps begging and eventually he finally comes back to himself and notices her there. But the only thing he does is turn and hold her close and bury his face in her hair. He’s trembling—she can feel him shaking, and his tears dampening her hair.

It hurts to see him like this. They haven’t talked much about what they both went through while separated, but she’s seen enough of his nightmares and moments like this one to get an idea of how bad it had been for him. She wishes that she can wipe away all of his pain, but she can’t. She can only hold his hand and help him through the worst of it.    

‘You scared me,’ she murmurs, once they’ve both calmed down enough to speak. ‘What happened?’

Terra draws a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispers. ‘Not really. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything he did in my body, everything I helped him do. And I thought… How do we know he is really gone? I’m back to myself, but I have memories that I shouldn’t have. What if something went wrong, and a piece of him is still inside of me?’

She keeps hold of his hand, anchoring him to reality. ‘Terra, look at me,’ she orders. He looks. ‘You need to trust yourself. Xehanort’s gone, and he’s not coming back. He’s not going to hurt you or anyone else ever again.’  

‘I can’t,’ he says. ‘I can’t trust myself. Not after everything that he did—that I did.’  

‘If you can’t trust yourself, then trust me,’ she says. ‘I know you, and I know you’d never hurt me or Ven. Remember when you came back in the Keyblade Graveyard? Xehanort attacked us and was about to let us fall to our deaths, but you swooped in and saved our lives. We’d both be dead if it weren’t for you.’

‘I remember.’ Tears stand in his eyes. ‘Bits and pieces. I knew he was about to kill you both to get at me, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to protect you somehow.’

She squeezes his hand gently. ‘You did protect us. You’ve always wanted to protect us. You would never hurt us. Ven and I have always known that.’

And he believes her—because he does trust her, more than he trusts himself at this point, probably. She can see it in his eyes. It scares her a bit, because she did fail at pretty much everything she set out to do, except keeping Ven safe. And she treated Terra badly in the days leading up to his possession and her imprisonment in the Realm of Darkness—she can see that now. It bewilders her sometimes that Terra can still trust her or even like her, but she’s also just happy to have him in her life again, so she never mentions it at all.    

‘Yeah,’ Terra sighs. ‘You’re right. I just have trouble believing it sometimes.’

‘Then believe me,’ she says. ‘You’re the kindest, most protective person I know. You would never hurt anyone, least of all us.’

He takes a deep breath, nods, and smiles tearily at her. She smiles back. She loves seeing him smile. It lights up his entire face.

Now that he’s calmed down, she supposes that she could just leave him, but somehow she doesn’t like that idea. What if he spirals again? He needs someone with him to remind him that he is not alone. Besides, she wants to be there for him like he’s been there for her in her darker moments.

And so she leads them both to the bed and settles down on it. Terra follows suit, though he hesitates at first.   

‘You don’t have to stay,’ he says quietly.

‘Of course I do,’ she responds. ‘You need me. We need each other. We support each other—that’s what we do.’

And so they lay on the bed together, Aqua resting her head on Terra’s shoulder and smiling.

“If…” She stopped. The Master of Masters was archaic, and her brows furrowed. She chose her interpretation carefully. She read, “Take thy heart and lodge it yonder chain, and thee shalt findeth a way.”  

“A way to what?” 

She shrugged. “Using the Keyblades of your comrades.”

“Isn’t chain too strong a word?” 

“I think he means link. He must be describing a bond that strong.” Aqua. Always the one to defend the forebears. “Listen to this: Nay fooleth, taketh thy heart and maketh thy star seeth.”

Terra dropped his book to the floor. “I don’t get where this is going.”

“Well, I think he’s using the term star to describe…” She flipped a page. “A Light. Someone equal to you.”

“Or, he’s a clown. I don’t think that book is serious. He wrote vaguely in riddles to confuse everyone.”

“We could try it. Trade our Keyblades.”

Terra strangled a cough. He was really strangling a hopeful laugh. This wasn’t the first time Aqua considered him an equal, but his heart hammered at the thought all the same. Her equal. His and hers.

And this was a very bad idea. 

“We tried that when we first conjured our Keyblades,” Terra said. Explosions happened. Earthshaker was desperate and too demanding. Rainfell was sensitive to emotion and needed control. 

Aqua straightened the pages with reverence. “We were kids.”

“It was a disaster, or did you forget? We nearly burned down the garden. Rabbits were threatened, Aqua. Innocent rabbits.”

“And we didn’t know each other as well.” 

“What difference does that make?”

Aqua licked her lips. Terra smiled. She was about to lecture. “Our Keyblades are an extension of our hearts, yes? And our Light is stronger through the bonds we make, therefore not only do our Keyblades become stronger, they shine more around the people we are connected to the most.”

“You’re saying we’re good friends. How sweet.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped to a previous page and pointed to a sentence. “It says here, To knoweth thy Key is to knoweth who is’t thee lodging thy trust.”

“So you trust me?”

She kicked his hip with the side of her foot—and Terra captured it, pulling her until her ass dragged on the floor. 

“No, I don’t,” she said, laughing. “Obviously.”

He let her go. Then Terra felt the void. It haunted him more frequently at every ghost of her touch—a pat on his shoulder, a punch to the bicep, when she straightened his bangs, an accidental brush against her shoulder. Always through clothes—Terra never had a good excuse to casually run his fingers on bare skin. 

Aqua rolled forward to her knees and leaned on him thigh-to-thigh. No void now, but a pressing worry over the possibility that one day, she would meet someone else that she would want to be touched by. She flipped the book over to show him. 

Terra didn’t take it. He couldn’t even read. Her thigh, her thigh, her thigh.

“Why is this that important to you?”

Aqua took the book back, surprised. “Well… do you know what this means for old Keyblades that are passed around?”

Terra bit his cheek. “It means we have a lot to prove to a Keyblade like Defender.”

Aqua nodded. “The Master’s guest has a similar Keyblade.”

Terra leaned forward and nearly took her chin in his hand. He kept it balled to his stomach. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I am, actually. We have this stranger judging us without knowing everything we went through. Think about it. If we could wield each other’s Keyblades, it will impress the Master and his guest. Prove to them that our bond is strong and we deserve to pass together. Prove to them that we can wield our inheritances when the time comes.”

This late into their study?  “Does the great Master mention how it’s supposed to feel?” he asked. “When we correctly do it?”

When they touched each other’s Keyblades as children, Aqua ran back to her room crying. She had said Earthshaker was “nervous,” in her words. But Terra knew better. His heart exposed like that, it became easy to read, and Terra couldn’t talk to her for days after. Truthfully, he was ashamed that she sensed his insecurity, feeling how he compared himself to her, how he was frustrated with being two years older but at the same level as her, how he was obsessed with falling behind and keeping up and excelling—all within the open aorta that was his immature Keyblade. Probably felt sorry for him, too.

And the other truth? Terra cried by himself in his own room when she didn’t know. Rainfell was confident, radiant, expansive despite Earthshaker being bigger, and Terra couldn’t mimic that. 

Aqua didn’t look at him when she said, “He mentioned the word ascendance. It’s supposed to feel like we’re leaning on a friend.” She smiled at him. Did she feel the same about his own thigh or did it not register in her head at all? “I know we can trust each other’s Keyblades. It shouldn’t be hard this time.”

Terra didn’t want to do it, but they built a metric relationship by testing the waters, by challenging each other, correcting technique, pushing and pushing and pushing to be better. If he backed out, Aqua would take it as though something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. Terra was in love. 

What he must do was commit the same calm control Aqua had with Rainfell. 

Besides, he needed a win. Side by side for the Mark of Mastery, he needed proof he could stand next to her. 

“Let’s do it.”

She beamed.

~*~

The library is destroyed. It has (had) multiple floors, but the upper levels are now barrages of torn shelves and mounds of books that make it impossible to climb the stairs. There’s no way to reach the shelf that houses Affairs of the Heart, but Terra tries looking anyway. Maybe the Master or Ven left it on a table before… everything. But it’s not anywhere. For the time being, Terra gets no answers to any of the lingering questions he has about how to help Aqua. Only a wish to cure her.

The rest of the castle is just as damaged. The east wing is entirely gone, and the west crumbles in most hallways, leaving gaping holes that invite broken bones. Rain pours through the open wounds on the roof, and seeps through the cracks on the walls, spreading mold. Terra’s bedroom is gone, half-collapsed over the cliff below, but Ven’s and Aqua’s are intact. 

The kitchen is submerged underneath its ceiling. A cauldron remains. Ven helps by pushing it while Terra pulls. When they drag it into the Master’s study, which is untouched, Terra knocks over a lamp with the bump of his hip.

“I don’t understand,” Terra says, catching the lamp before it shatters on the floor. “Explain to me what happened like I’m five.”

Ven scowls when he inspects how dusty his hands got because of the cauldron. He claps them. 

“Well,” Ven starts like he’s talking to a child. “Once upon a time, the Master was mad at me. Terra came and saved me. Terra threw me in a voooortex—I know that’s a difficult word to pronounce—so I didn’t see what happened. Aqua said—”

“Ven.”

“Aqua said she locked me away in an alternate universe of the castle to keep me safe.”

“With the Master’s Defender. Some secret only Masters know.”

“Yeah, and she woke me up again. Well, no. I mean, Sora was the one to officially wake me up. Aqua transformed the castle back with” —Ven waves his hands like he doesn’t know how to describe it— “her incredible new powers. It’s like time went backwards or something.”

It’s impressive how Darkness can bypass a Keyblade’s spell. Then again, the Land of Departure is in the same condition Xehanort left it, from his own Dark curses. 

“Why not use the Defender?”

“We need a duster in here.”

“Ven.”

“I don’t know. She said Defender doesn’t respond to her anymore.” Ven shrugs. 

Terra taps his fingers on the cauldron. Everything he’s been learning about what happened while he slept—stars, why would anyone want him alive right now?

“How is she?”

Ven scratches his shoulder. “She’s still outside.”

Staring at the Master’s memorial, in the rain, exactly where they left her. That's most of what she does now. Stare blankly.

“At least she’s nice to me,” Ven says. “She hates everyone else.”

Terra inhales, gritting his teeth. Does Aqua have a shorter fuse? Yes. Does she judge people? Only when they truly deserve it. But hate? No. That is not Aqua.

"You're exaggerating."

"Pssh. Just wait until she wants to kill you."

Terra almost says, I don't blame her, but he keeps it to himself.

In the study is an ashen fireplace full of debris. The Master’s personal journals are scattered on his desk, and his favorite books—tomes, novels, children’s books he used to read to Terra—lay on a private shelf opposite. With how little it’s been disturbed, it’s almost as if the Master could open the door, ask them both why the cauldron has been moved here, to please move it back to the kitchen, and not to worry about the state of the castle. It can and will be fixed.

Except there’s so much to be worried about. Thunder strikes the ground, and it sounds close. Rain pummels down the window, leaving a blurred view of storm clouds hiding the mountains.

“There’s no mirror here,” Ven says.

Terra would chuckle, but nothing is funny anymore. “Why are you worried about mirrors?”

“Aqua’s making them all weird. I see things like… nevermind, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you help me take mine out of my room?”

Terra wants to collapse. Everything is weird. “Sure.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

There’s a loveseat in the study, but Terra’s too tall, so he’ll need to find some clean blankets and nest on the burgundy rug. “Here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What’s the cauldron for?”

Earthshaker still won’t answer when Terra commands it to. “I just need something to occupy my mind.”

“Okay.” Ven doesn’t believe him. That’s because Terra is a terrible liar. 

To shut out the silence, Terra pats Ven’s shoulder and says, “Come on. Let’s get your mirror out.”

They leave the mirror in the resident hallway, at Ven’s request that it’s left facing the wall. 

That night, it’s still storming, the wind howling like it’s crying. Which is a problem. The Land of Departure is supposed to be the balance of Light and Darkness. These storms aren’t normal. Lightning flashes purple, then green, then red. The rain leaves smears of muck. Aqua isn’t normal. Nothing is normal. 

Terra needs to busy his mind.

The way back into the kitchen isn’t safe. Terra jumps over a hole that spawns beneath his feet, and crawls under columns that have fallen over to get to the pantry. Carefully, so he doesn’t trigger a complete cave in. He grabs every herb he can safely reach.

Terra then spends hours removing stone slab after stone slab from the fireplace, some rotten with mold. He pushes the cauldron over the wood, ignites it with a Fire spell, and waits for the water to boil. As thunder rumbles outside, Terra rips dried leaves from stems and mixes them with magic-induced powders that the Master concocted years ago. 

It’s quiet. In normal times, he would be knocking on Aqua’s door, and they would sit on her bed and talk about what happened until morning. Normally, the castle lanterns would be lit, offering safe passage at night. 

“What are you doing?”

Terra jumps at Aqua’s steady voice and nearly drops the ladle. She’s standing at the doorway. The light from the fire slices half her face in shadow. Her golden eyes glow. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

Aqua walks up to the Master’s desk, and it’s no wonder why. Her steps don’t make a sound. She places a silver hand mirror on the desk, face down. He recognizes it: she keeps it in her vanity drawer.

Terra turns his attention back to his potions. He feels terrible thinking this, but it’s nauseating to look at her. Her body oozes black smoke when she moves, and when he crosses her path in the halls, he finds her staring randomly at the walls, at statues, at shredded stained glass. When she notices his presence, he turns the opposite direction. 

It’s not that she’s hideous. It’s that he wants to pretend her condition is not his crime. 

He can feel her staring at his back. 

“Do you remember these storms?” he asks. They pass through the Land of Departure every twenty years, and lucky Terra and Aqua were around to see the last one. The Master had locked them up in this very study, while he braved the outside and fought this dark energy. The fact that another one is at their doorstep a year early is an omen.

A pause. “Yes.”

Terra inhales to stop himself from crying. She sounds like she will never smile again. More than that, there’s a buried edge to her voice and it crawls over Terra’s skin. Like he’s around a predator, his hairs stand and he’s careful not to trigger an attack. 

“Look at me.”

Terra pretends to lean over the cauldron to mix, and lets the onslaught of steam threaten his fear away. Feel pain here, assaulting his face, and it overrides the pain of looking at her face.

But he can’t pretend forever. He finishes his “work,” and he turns. This frown is so unnatural for her—still and unmoving, like she’s dead. In better times, her frown made him laugh. 

“Don’t like what you see?” She leans on the desk. 

Her face, her jawline that he wants to stroke with his knuckle, sad and torn up. She’s beautiful, and she’s a reminder of every mistake Terra has made.  

“It’s not like that,” Terra whispers, and he stares at his shoes.

“Look at me.” Stronger, with vice. 

He does, reading her angry eyes, her bleached hair, the claws like needles into the wood. Her lips, pursed and tense. The length of her neck. The color of Darkness spreading over her arms. Her bare shoulders, the straps he’s taken off before.

“I’m sorry,” he says, her face blurring. Hot tears leave burn marks on his cheeks.

Her claws scrape the desk as she stands back up. “I don’t care about your apology.”

“I know what you’re thinking—”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aqua…” He licks his lips, and they taste like salt. Thunder roars. “We have to fix the castle. To protect us. These storms are dangerous.”

“Oh.” She crosses her arms. “How bad.”

Stars, he sounds so stupid, considering what she survived. “We have to think of Ven.”

Again, that predatory feeling that she’s smothers into control. Terra braces for an attack, but none come. “You think I don’t?”

“Stars,” he curses. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I have already taken care of his room. He’ll be fine.”

Terra swallows what feels like thick goo down his throat. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I’m here to take care of this room.”

Terra gapes. He’s expecting her to summon Rainfell, and bless the walls to keep him safe from the storm. But she doesn’t. She’s standing there, glaring at him. 

But of course—the shadows that dance with the light from the hearth dance on their own. They shift and warp. She’s creating a barrier for him with her Darkness. 

“I get it, you know,” he says. 

She doesn’t respond.

He continues, “You feel more in control like this.”

Her jaw locks. He studies her, really studies her. Her Light is still there but it’s faint. Rainfell is muted. Before, her power was like the sun— too bright to look straight on, but one you can gaze at it in the reflection of water. Now it’s like… the wick of a flame in the fog.

Terra has a faint memory of being in the dark and a star dissolving in front of him. Well, star isn’t a strong enough word for Aqua’s Light before the Guardian overpowered it and infected her with whatever this is. The Guardian wanted a sun, and the Guardian sucked all its hydrogen.

“We can help you,” he says, standing taller.

“How are you suggesting?”

“Maybe… we can remove the shroud—”

“Exorcism.” 

“No—”

“I’m not broken.”

“No.” A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. “Of course not. You’re strong.”

“Don’t,” she snaps, snarling. She lowers her voice. “Call me strong. It isn’t fair.”

Terra nods, and blinks away from her, wishing his tears would stop. She’s right. Nothing, including his tears, is fair to her.

“Look at me,” she says, gentler. She walks forward, her body warping through the desk like she’s made of mist and there’s nothing solid in her way. “Everyone averts their eyes. But I hate it when you do.”

Terra runs reasons in his mind to be brave. For her. For her pain. For his punishment. His tears now dribble off his chin.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to hear your voice all that time?” she says, stepping up to his face. She compresses one claw against his throat, right under his jaw. “How quiet it was when I couldn’t?”

This isn’t what Terra had expected his future to be, if a miracle were to happen and they would be this close again. For hours that seemed like years and years that were millennia, Terra asked the stars if he could touch her one more time. Hand in hand, that was all he asked for.  

“Yes. I do.” He sniffs. She presses harder and Terra grits his teeth from the pressure. “I couldn’t hear or see anything. All I did was dream memories. It was torture—”

“Torture,” she mumbles. She presses even harder that her claw stings. How is she this close to him when he perceives her so far? So close, their hips inches apart. 

“Yes.” Terra swallows but can’t. “Aqua, all I had were daydreams of when I could see you and Ven again.”

Silence. She tucks her white hair behind her ear with her free hand, and it falls forward. The claw under his jaw shifts, and the artery at his throat throbs. She leans near, almost to kiss him, when she stops just before her lips grace his. 

“You’re breathing,” she whispers.

His blood pumps. That’s what this is. She’s measuring his pulse, that he’s real under her touch. 

She’s still Aqua. Just weird. Weird like a jewel unrefined, still in its geode. For years, Terra hasn’t felt, hasn’t touched, only yearned. The restraint he has with her this close dissolves from tears of what-ifs. 

Brave, be brave. He removes her hand, clutches it to his heart, and leans toward her. Leans until their foreheads almost touch, until he takes her cheek and strokes it with his thumb. Testing their distance, looking into gold while gold looks into blue. Gold glances down to his lips.

He kisses her. Her lips are cold like she’s been in the snow, and it reminds him of bright mornings in white. Of dark, cozy nights by the fire. Of the wonder of seasons when he was young. Her lips are cold like steel when they’re soft against his, and he savors them when he hasn’t savored anything for twelve years. Her lips are no longer the way he remembers them, but they’re Aqua. And the tongue he needs is Aqua, and the sigh she gives him is her. When he lets go, she’s dazed, with his shirt balled in her fist and staring at the wall behind his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, letting go of the arm wrapped around her waist. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You know,” she says, “I can’t feel much.”

He peels off the claw that’s nearly tearing a hole in his shirt, and rubs it between his hands, over her scales, trying to thaw her. “Do you feel this?”

Aqua watches him work. “Faintly.”

“I can make you tea.” Cinnamon would be best considering its strong flavor, but it’s in the pantry, mixed with plaster. “Just give me a day so I can buy some.” 

She says nothing.

Terra exhales his anxiety, and brings her knuckles to his lips. The rubbing hasn’t helped. She’s still icy, and he wants to wrap her with his body, throw fleece over her face. “I can make you something now if you want. You’ll feel better.”

“Better,” she mutters, as if this offends her. She pulls her hand away. Her ice ghosts from his palms in waves, where his blood pumps warmth back with a tingling feeling. He can’t deal with the emptiness between them. When she turns away from him, he clasps her wrist. “Aqua—”

“I’m done with the room.” She dodges his hold. She makes him feel like his touch is accidental. 

“Please…” He doesn’t say, Don’t slip from me again. What should he say? Stay? Can we go to your room?

He doesn't mention they were supposed to find a hiding place for themselves the night they were supposed to be Masters together. Do they even have the same dream anymore?

“There’s… a lot we need to talk about," he continues. "Between us. What happened in the Realm of Darkness. What happened the night before the Mark of Mastery?” 

She doesn’t say anything. Not at first. “I thought about that night all the time.”

“I did, too.” 

Again Aqua has no response. 

“There’s no going back, is there?” he asks, afraid of the answer. “For us?”

She doesn’t confirm.

“The mirror should help you see.” She slips away. The void screams when she silently leaves the room, past the firelight’s barrier. 

The hand mirror is as cold as her hands, unbending metal in his tight grip. He flips it over. In his reflection is himself—white hair, golden eyes, smirking in a way unnatural to him. Faded horns hover behind the crown of his head. The Guardian tucked away, a most loyal dog.

So Terra and this anti version of Aqua understand each other better than he realizes. Even with clothes on, they’re naked. She finds herself more powerful now than she was before, and can rely on her new strength. A comforting thought for her, not having to wait for others anymore.

The truth that matches hers? Terra was stronger when Darkness overtook him, too. And he hates himself for it. Hates himself for wishing Xehanort was alive and lingering in the back of his mind, trapped like Terra was, so Terra could ask what he should do about Aqua, and Xehanort the wise would have an answer.

He hates himself for being a dog in the first place. Isn’t the Guardian a literal manifestation of what Terra’s heart truly is? A Keybearer is supposed to be a source of Light—they need Light within their heart in order to summon a Keyblade. Maybe the Guardian is proof Terra shouldn’t wield one anymore. Maybe Earthshaker has been swallowed. 

He throws the mirror into the cauldron and listens to the glass shatter. Maybe this little shred of her Darkness would make his potion more powerful.

Terra gathers blankets from wardrobes that are still intact, and layers them together to make a bed between the loveseat and the coffee table. When he’s done filling vials with potions, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a crack too close to the chandelier. It could fall and crush him.

Terra exhales and suppresses the need to cry. He closes his eyes and rolls to his side, but the floor is too rock solid and his bones ache. He uses his arm as a pillow, and sighs. Given enough time, with the rain tapping on the windows and the fireplace alive with groans and cracks, Terra actually catches some sleep.

Until his eyes snap open in the middle of the night. The firelight is dead, and it’s black-dark. Rain still knocks on the windows. On his side, he’s looking at a shadow hiding under the table. The hair on his neck rises—whoever is there is staring back, and he expects a claw to smite and scratch him.

Lightning strikes—it illuminates no one looking back. 

Behind him though is a predator, sitting on the loveseat, watching his back. Terra pretends he’s still asleep. 

It didn’t take long. She was up there within moments, and then she saw Terra standing on the edge of the summit, gazing at the stars. His back was to her, but he turned when he heard her approach.

Her heart swelled ridiculously. It had been too long since she’d last seen him, and she had to admit that she’d missed him a lot. The Realm of Darkness was lonely and smothering and dark and her meetings with Terra were often the only bright spot she had. She wondered if he felt the same way about her. 

She could see Terra’s eyes light up upon seeing her. But it saddened her to see the shadows in his eyes and on his face. It looked too much like her own—tired, sad, heartsick. She hated that—but most of all hated that there was nothing she could do about it, since she was stuck in the Realm of Darkness and he was—

No. She didn’t want to think about that just now. She tore her mind away from that line of thinking, took the final steps toward Terra and grabbed hold of his hand.    

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. ‘It’s been too long since we last saw each other.’      

‘I know,’ Terra said quietly. He looked at her, as if he were trying to memorise every inch of her face. ‘I missed you too. I always do.’

As always, the fear and worry for him rose up in her heart. He never told her outright what he was going through, but she could tell by the look in his eyes and his voice that it wasn’t good. In fact, it was probably worse than he would ever admit to her. It hurt her to know that she couldn’t fix anything, but she could at least distract them both from their troubles.

‘Let’s just look at the stars for a while,’ she said to him, and tried to smile. ‘We can forget everything else.’

His face relaxed slightly, his eyes softened, and he almost smiled. ‘Yeah,’ he breathed out. ‘Let’s do it.’

So they both sat down on the edge of the summit and just gazed at the stars. Aqua didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, but it felt good, wonderful. Then Terra spoke again and shattered the moment of comfort.              

‘Aqua…’ He refused to look at her and kept his gaze on the stars. ‘I don’t think we should see each other anymore.’

‘Why?’ It was a silly question. She had a fairly good idea of why these meetings had to end, but she needed to hear it from him. ‘I just… I need to know.’

She heard him swallow hard, painfully. He still didn’t look at her when he said quietly, ‘You should have almost reached the Dark Margin by now, so you’ll be safe. You don’t need me anymore.’

‘I always need you,’ she told him firmly.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And… it’s dangerous being around me. The first time we met up, Xehanort almost attacked you and tried to used me to trick you into giving away where you hid Ven. I don’t want to put you at risk anymore with my presence. I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt because of me.’

She couldn’t see his face, but she heard the tremor in his voice, and knew that he was just as hurt and reluctant as she was at losing each other again. Wanting to comfort him somehow (and also wanting some comfort herself), she squeezed his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

‘Why have you kept coming back then?’ she asked him quietly. ‘If you were so worried about my safety around you, you could’ve just stopped coming after Enchanted Dominion.’

He laughed without humour and turned to look at her. ‘I couldn’t bear to stop,’ he admitted. ‘You don’t know what it’s like, stuck in a crushing endless void with only Xehanort for company. You’re the only bright spot of light I have. I couldn’t let that go.’

She understood completely. It was the same for her. After all, she was stuck here in the Realm of Darkness with no one but herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of going back to suffering alone.   

‘You’re the light in the darkness for me, too,’ she admitted. ‘These meetings… they’ve kept me going, while I was fighting Heartless and trying to survive in the Realm of Darkness. Even if it’s dangerous, it’s worth it to me, just to see you again.’

Her words surprised and heartened him, she could tell. For a moment, she thought he would change his mind, but then he bit his lip, squared his shoulders and said, ‘I just can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Aqua.’

Her face fell, but she understood. ‘Then this is really goodbye?’

She couldn’t help the painful ache in her chest at the thought. She didn’t want to be alone again.

Terra looked away from her, back to the stars so she couldn’t see the look in his eyes. ‘I guess so.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly. She hated his answer but appreciated his honesty. ‘But I’ll try to survive.’

‘Don’t just try. Promise me you’ll keep fighting, Terra,’ she urged him. ‘If—when—I get out of here, I’ll wake Ven up and we’ll find you and get you back. We won’t forget about you—we would never do that. You just need to keep fighting.’

‘All right,’ he said, after a moment of thought. ‘I will. I promise.’

‘We’ll see each other again. I know it. And we’ll all be together again—you, me and Ven.’    

‘Aqua, I…’

She could see the words on his lips but covered his mouth before he could speak them. ‘You can tell me when we’re both back in the Realm of Light. But for now, let’s just savour the time we have with each other.’ She didn’t know how much longer they had in this dreamscape, but she refused to waste another moment of it lamenting what they could not change. ‘Deal?’

“Can you stand up?”

Rainfell is left neglected on the ground next to her. They’ve been fighting each other with their Keyblades. That’s what she’s not telling him. 

“I can’t.”

Aqua blinks away her worry, but Terra sees past the armor. “That’s okay. You’re doing good. You’re beating him.”

Bile clogs his esophagus. He needs to roll over and let it all out but he swallows it back. Swallows again and swallows hard to keep it in and not let Xehanort go—

—Sleep.

“Aqua,” he says, his voice frail, “I’m sorry.” 

Aqua smiles morosely. She’s never been the type to rub it in. 

There’s a lot to be sorry for. One: The Master is dead. 

—Sleep.

Two: They fought. In front of Ven.

—Sleep.

Three: He left her behind. 

Four, just to decapitate the dead horse: He never congratulated her on achieving her Master status.

—Sleep.

And five: for that night before the Mark of Mastery. Terra had hoped there would be less stress the night after.

This can’t be the last time he touches her.

“I know,” she says. 

What was once a headache that jerked his forehead is now a quiet null, and he’s losing feeling in his fingers, the feeling of her skin.

His eyelids are heavy, and he sighs.

Aqua holds his chin and makes him stare into her eyes. “Listen to me. You’re strong. You can defeat him.”

Terra stretches the fingers in his free hand and tries to ball them into a fist.

“I can’t find Earthshaker.”

“What?”

He tries again—that small shred of Light he is supposedly connected to, the warmth of a friend who will always listen, the certainty of having someone there to help, is gone. Earthshaker won’t come. 

This is what it’s like to have regret. Tell me, how does that honor our Master’s memory, Terra?

“I know Earthshaker. It will always be there for you,” Aqua says, so confident and so wrong, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to get him to stand. 

Terra flinches—a profound image of choking her invades his senses, bleached knuckles that won’t respond to him, rigid around the same neck he’s buried his nose in before. 

He leans over on his side, too weak to push her off. “Aqua, just let me go.”

“Never,” she snaps. “How can you ask that?”

“He’s coming back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can fight him off together.” 

How does that honor our Master’s memory?

—Sleep.

In a page tucked away on some textbook Terra has always hated reading for its archaic nonsense, was a line: F’r our lighteth in the dark hast us by the heart, at each moment. 

Too heavy for her, Aqua brings Terra back to rest on her lap. When they’re weak, they’re supposed to be each other’s Light to guide them back home. That’s what the Master said. One star to find another lost in space. 

(And when stars flicker out, they explode in a supernova, then disintegrate into a black hole. That is something the Master refused to discuss. Their job was not to let that happen, period.)

“Terra, stay with me?”

For a moment, the lights go out. For the next, they come back on. Terra looks up at her blue eyes. She knows what’s happening to him, from the way she quiets down and rubs her thumb on his jaw. 

“You just have to find your Light again,” Aqua says. She’s talking about Earthshaker. She’s talking about Ven. She’s talking about going home together. “And this will be over. Then we can find our own little hiding place.” She soothes, stroking his cheek. “Like we promised.”

But—

But, just in case, Terra squeezes her hand one more time. He’s going to have to let go.

Terra lifts his head and points with his nose to beckon her to go lower, to get closer to him, as if he’s telling her a secret. Closer, enough for him to lean up with what’s left of his strength, to press his mouth on hers, and open his lips, and ask for more. She trembles against him, and he kisses her again, and inhales her smokey sweat and lavender shampoo with all that he wants to say but has lost the voice for.

That’s his last memory before sinking into the black hole. Someone far away says, “I’m with you,” planting one little star into his hand that he can caress to his chest while he slips into something like sleeping. Then he tears apart.

~*~

Awake. Awake? 

Terra sits up. He rolls to his hands and knees, and coughs—there’s sand crumbling under his tongue, and he spits out the remains. 

After he nearly gags from what doesn’t come up, he realizes. Sand crumpled underneath his fist, as if he was in the middle of choking someone. More sand caked into his nails. A musty odor—he needs deodorant. That numbing feeling on his wrists that means he needs to shake them off. Wake them up. Awake. He’s breathing, and it’s hot, and he’s sweaty, and he’s hungry. 

“Terra!”

It happens so quickly, the way Ven rushes to Terra’s side, and checks his eyes to see if they’re blue. Terra doesn’t register a single word out of Ven’s mouth but he registers the feeling of Ven’s chest crushed against his, muscle trapping boy in a hug. Cheek to cheek, the sound of tears and tears.

“You’re crushing me.” 

Terra lets go, but not the shoulders. It’s too early to allow the feeling of someone slipping away. 

Ven is the same as he's always been. All bones. “You’re still chubby in the cheeks,” Terra says, smushing them between his giant hands.

“Fuck you.”

“What is that language?” But Terra is crying, messing with Ven’s well-kept hair.

“Ugh, why.” The disturbed styling cream flattens the cowlick Ven likes so much and his attempt to make it right dwindles. But he’s smiling. Crying, too. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too.” More tears.

Ven stops his fussing and lowers his hands. His voice breaks. “I thought I’d never see you again.” 

To make up for it, Terra tries fixing Ven’s hair for him. Thankfully, considering the result, there’s no mirror nearby to upset Ven. “Hey. It’s over. We’re safe. We’re back together and—”

Terra looks around. They’re in the Keyblade Graveyard, somewhere within starched erected stone walls that are falling apart. But Terra doesn’t understand why they’re here. He tastes smoke. Magic residue. 

They fought Xehanort-as-Terra here, and Terra doesn’t remember much except reaching for a night sky. She was here, he was certain. A star gauzed behind clouds and he reached, and reached and caught Xehanort by the throat. 

“Where’s Aqua?”

Ven doesn’t respond. 

Terra’s heart pounds, assuming the worst. Did he hurt—

“Um.” Ven wipes his hands on his pants and stands. “She’s different.”

Terra gets off his knees. He’s unbalanced, swaying with his heavy legs, and Ven holds him up by the arm. “What does that mean?”

Ven grunts his disappointment. He points behind Terra, to a wall that bends open to the rest of the labyrinth. “She’s behind there. She fought with me” —against Terra— “then left.”

Terra trips on his feet as he limps. How different? Hurt-different? Tired-different? Furious-different? Furious with him? Won’t want to ever talk to him again-different, and there’s no turning back-different? 

He catches himself at the side of the wall. “Aqua?”

Rustling and steps respond, in the slice of shadow around the corner. Terra looks over.

Two little orbs, lights in the shadow that remind him of monsters, stare back at him, waiting before the onslaught. Terra’s instinct is to call Earthshaker, but it still won’t come. Left defenseless, how fast will the monster get to him if Terra yells? How fast will Ven come to the rescue?

But a second passes by before he realizes what he’s looking at. Golden eyes in fury, white hair, pulling her ripped sleeves, inked in black, to hide her red claws. 

She looks like a creature. 

When Terra was six, the Master would tell him stories of valiant heroes defeating monsters with eyes like lanterns, which seduced victims into thinking they’re safe, and made them follow false lights until they were isolated in the dark. 

Aqua shivers. “You,” she says. Her voice is steady and solid, but he hears all its cadences. Rage, sadness, something like relief but too numb to feel it.

Terra steps toward his monster but he lowers his gaze from her glare. If he doesn’t see, then it’s not as bad as he thinks.

This is what it’s like to have regret. Tell me, how does this honor our Master’s memory, Terra?

He coaxes her into his arms, and rests his mouth onto her forehead, letting her heave dry sobs into his shoulder while his hot tears trickle down to her hair. She smells like ash. She’s freezing.

He doesn’t have the courage this time to apologize. He almost asks if she’s okay. Stupid question. “Let’s go home.”