Disclaimers and Useless/Useful Stuff to Know:
I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Never will! Likely spoilers about, but you knew that, didn't you?

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From Chains, the Rust

by Alba Aulbath

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from one:
The World is Under and Out

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"I don't know you." The boy waved his hand dismissively, turning away.

Leon knew that he was hardly dependable to recall the earliest bits of memories back at Radiant Garden. They'd forgotten their home's true name, and moreover even had forgotten what their former ruler really looked like -- pale and blonde, not dark and white. Still, he didn't feel guilty in the least; it's not as if he cared to remember. Lingering on the past usually brought about unnecessary migraines and the like.

"Don't you have somewhere else to brood, old man?"

Besides -- you try to remember something from your early childhood. That was another point of his; hardly anyone could remember anything from a time so early in their life. Especially when they want to forget.

Frankly, he was glad he couldn't remember whatever terrified him so much.

"You don't belong here. Get going."

Then why did he...?

Leon shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose; his thumb brushed over his scar. That. It was that, it started all of it, his need to find the connections. Scar to scar, it was like there was some twisted reflection between him and a punk kid from a quiet town that he'd never seen in his entire life.

He didn't know, but he had the need to discover. It seemed as though, once he started to question it, he really didn't know -- he didn't remember where he'd even gotten his scar.

So there he was. By means he wasn't particularly FOND of, after all -- he'd been one of the many to scold Cloud tenfold about it -- but. He couldn't remember, couldn't recall anything on his own. He needed the help, desperately.

Outside the gates of the reconstruction of the Coliseum, Leon leapt out of the ship. It was still incredible, to see the destruction of what had been an impressive place. Everyone and anyone used to attend the events, to watch or partake if it could be managed. It was still odd to see it in the shape it was now. Still...

Still, he couldn't hang around a moment for greetings. It was usually a bit typical, whenever he visited before, even if he didn't always get along with Phil. Honestly, he had a bit of a kick of pestering him, if it could be managed. On the other end of the spectrum, Pegasus reacted usually with enthusiasm, greeting him with whistles and whinneys and a tongue across the face. Always had a bit of a knack with creatures, Leon noted.

At any rate, he couldn't let them notice he was there, or where he was headed.

He slipped on by, once he was sure their backs were to him, and he proceeded through a pair of gates, being sure to shut it immediately behind himself.

When he turned, he was faced with three snarling heads, three sets of jaws drooling and teeth prepared to dig into his flesh; Leon held his ground, glaring back at Cerberus, who so loyally guarded the gates of the Underworld.

"You know who I am," Leon told the hound.

It didn't make the beast any more or less pleased to see him. The three heads barked and growled, but stepped back to allow the man through.

Pressing forward, Leon shook his head and hissed softly; just a few steps inside, and he felt less like himself. The stench of death was clinging to him, inside and out, and the mist rised from the walls, discolored from the decay of the dead -- physical bodies and souls alike.

It didn't matter if he was a common visitor; Leon knew he'd never be used to it.

"Back again."

Leon turned his head, shrugging to the speaker. It was a voice and a face he knew, from the visits he made from time to time.

"Back again," the gunblader agreed. "What about you? Did you find your story, Auron?"

"Hm." The older warrior smiled faintly; he stood in the small clearing of the Underworld, watching Leon walk past the hound and up to him for the conversation. "I might have, just yet. Memories are difficult to maintain, and even to trust."

"I know." Leon glanced away, uneasy with the subject.

"No, you don't." There was no beat to allow Leon to fire back a response since Auron was pointing down the path. "Be careful. Seems as though Hades has summoned another being as his servant."

The remark wasn't forgotten, but this new bit of information concerned and confused Leon. "To fight Hercules again?"

"It doesn't seem that way," Auron mused.

"Then what else? Cerberus is all he needs to guard the gates."

Auron grinned behind his collar. "That's what Hades thought. Why don't you ask him yourself when you go to meet him?"

The vague response was less than pleasing, but Leon wasn't up for demands and arguments. He let out a small sigh before shrugging at the older warrior. "If anyone is looking for me... don't point them my way." Little request and more command; the gunblader turned and started down the hallway.

The Underworld wasn't so much cold and definitely not hot; it was almost as if there was a thick moisture in the air, and the fog seeping off the moist walls and the pit of souls was crawling across his skin. It was discomforting, and being in the place gave Leon a great disadvantage if he were to be suddenly ambushed. He trusted enough that Hades would keep the way open for him.

The walk was silent, save for the faint sound of moaning souls; Leon managed to the land bridge, still trying to shake off the ghastly feeling of just being off. He did pause, though, staring down at ash-covered ground.

"Hm?" He knelt down and picked up a small object. "...A guitar pick?"

Abruptly, he heard someone approaching from behind him. Leon turned around, quickly observing, his eyes darting; it was a tall man -- taller than himself -- with tangled and long black hair. A tattered red cloak, a black suit underneath -- details were difficult to find, Leon noticed quickly. The lower half of the mans face was covered in strips of scarlet cloth. Even his left arm was concealed by the old cape hanging off his shoulders. The main feature standing out aside from mystery shrouding the man was a single red eye staring out from the mess of hair, the other eye completely masked away by the dark strands.

"Leonhart," the man spoke stiffly, voice crackling -- maybe from disuse.

Leon hesitated before responding, "Close enough."

The man didn't seem to hear or care much in the matter of names; he looked over his shoulder, obviously distracted, before he looked back to Leon. He straightened up, walking lightly and carefully around Leon once, sizing him up it seemed.

Apparently reaching a conclusion, he reached out and snatched the guitar pick from Leon's hand. It didn't occur to the gunblader it'd be of any particular importance.

"Continue," the man ordered. He turned and started his way down where he'd just come from.

"Where are you...?" Leon's sentence trailed off, but he remained watching the strange man.

"Hunting," was the only answer Leon received, as the man continued on his path; Leon was quite sure he heard the click of a gun.

There was no sense in pursuing; this wasn't his domain, and it didn't occur to Leon that a simple guitar pick would be of any importance. Still, it was... odd. That must have been the man Auron mentioned to him earlier.

Reaching the doors to the chamber where Hades awaited, there were the pair of demons that he saw from time to time: Pain and Panic. It was a bit amazing, honestly, why someone like Hades would even bother with a pair of bumbling idiots, especially when he had a habit of manipulating people -- dead or alive -- into his own schemes. Hence the raggedy man from before, no doubt.

"Hey, it's Squall!" Pain noticed, lifting up his head to stare at the man approaching. "Oh, uh, Lord Hades is in kind of a... you know..." He glanced nervously to Panic.

"Bad mood?" the other demon supplied.

"Yeah! Maybe you should come back another--"

Leon interrupted, voice low and growling, "First. It's 'Leon'. Second, I came back from that ridiculous mission, and I'm not leaving until I see him."

"I don't know what YOU'RE complaining about," Panic mumbled, toeing the ash-covered ground with a talon. "I'd wanna go to Wonderland."

The gunblader grunted, caring little about the desires of the two demons. He stepped over them, shoving the doors to Hades's chamber open, just in time to feel the intense heat as the Lord of the Dead was aflame, furious about something. Another means to kill Hercules failed, not doubt. Leon shook his head and stepped further inside before avoiding some stray bits of fire flying off from Hades.

"Moody?" Leon asked lightly.

Hades went stiff, then cooled down a bit, coughing and wiping his forehead. "Well, well; welcome back, Leonhart. Where is it?"

"First." Leon held up an index finger. "What's going on in the Underworld that you need another servant at your beck and call?"

"Saw him, did you? Eh, don't let it bother you. I got some pest control that needs to be taken care of. Look, it's none of your business, but WE? We have business to take care of. Did you get it?"

Leon snorted. "After going through puzzles with the Cheshire Cat, yes. What do you need a thing like this for?" Reaching into his pocket, he held out a clear, crystal fragment to the Lord of the Underworld.

"Now, see, here's the thing: in our contract, it doesn't say I've got to tell you a thing. So, you just be a good boy and do every little task I set you out to do. Got it?" Hades snatched the shard from the gunblader, glancing at it briefly before turning around to set it on a nearby pedestal.

"And?" Leon folded his arms. "Where's the return favor, Hades?"

"Hm? Oh, right right. That little detail." The God snorted. "Your little payment, then." Shutting a cover to the pedestal and locking it tight, Hades turned and snapped his fingers. In a puff of smoke, an envelope appeared on the table. "Take it. Might look a little familiar to ya. Buuuut, before you head out, got another task for ya."

Picking up the envelope, Leon glanced at the God, narrowing his eyes. No snide remarks. He simply said, "Yes?"

"When ya head out, you might see a little world. Oh, you know, the jungle-type, maybe a kingdom on the side -- anyway. They've got a temple there. Take a look, find another fragment for me, would ya? Makin' a little collection here." Hades waved his hand. "Got it, Leonhart? I'm a busy God here, got things t'do. Scram."

"Hn." Leon shook his head, stepping out the door. Scrambling out of his way were the two demons again, and he started on his way down and out of the Underworld.

Opening the envelope, he stared at a sheet of paper. Colored with age -- not terribly old, but old enough -- and a bit tattered -- certainly readable. Writing was a bit of chicken scratch, but not so bad.

After while of writing these entries, I'm getting the feeling that I'm getting watched. Man, it's uneasy! Ever since we split up, I guess I'm a bit paranoid. Yeah, he must have brushed that off on me. That, and I don't know if I trust that old guy. Sure, they call him wise, but can he really take care of him?

Anyway. I promised to take it as far as I could. I heard about ships and travelling at a place called Montressor. I'm thinking about going and learning more about it. They say I could probably learn more from this Delbert guy. I should go looking for him. I need to take this thing as far away as possible.

World traveling... man. And space seemed far out.

I'm worried about her and Seifer. The whole splitting up thing... I still don't think it's a good idea. But hey, I've never been much of a planner!

Aw well. Nothing more to say. I'll write again when I get to Montressor.

-- Z.D.

It was a load of bull. Not familiar at all. Not--

Wait.

Leon narrowed his eyes. "...Seifer?"

"You don't belong here."

He touched his scar, shutting his eyes. "Seifer. ... Z.D.?" Did he know someone by those initials?

"I don't know you."

It didn't make any sense. Not one bit.

As Leon started out of the Underworld, he went reasonably uninterrupted; no odd men, no demonds. That was, until he had to pause in surprise; at the gates, instead of guarding attentively, Cerberus was sprawled out, unconscious. Who in the blazes could have...?

No. Not unconscious, but asleep.

Sitting on the steps was Auron, lounging more than anything. Leon gestured to the three-headed hound, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure it out. "Did you do this?"

"Heh." Auron shook his head. "And why would I? No; I found him like this. Looks awfully relaxed, doesn't he?"

"Hrm." It was odd, but Leon didn't think anymore on it. He started towards the steps.

"Is there anything?" Auron inquired. Leon stopped to look at him, confused. "Anything. That added to your story."

The gunblader shrugged. "I don't know yet. But we'll see."

"Hm. Might be a page added to it yet."

Leon wasn't sure how to respond, as was the case most of the time whenever he met Auron. The man was enigmatic, but sensible for sure. Sometimes he was in the Underworld, sometimes he left to places he wasn't sure of. But always speaking of a story to be told, but not yet done.

They were alike. Leon wasn't sure how yet, but he was sure of it. Pages were missing to their respective stories.

He hoped to find and complete it.

As Leon walked up the stairs, he returned to the world above. Nothing was particularly different, and he wasn't entirely worried about being noticed.

He just didn't intend to being tackled to the ground.

Leon slammed his head a bit on the sandy ground. Who the hell...! He jerked his head up, staring up and squinting at a girl sitting on his stomach.

"Leon!" she scolded. "Where th' hell have ya been? I've been lookin' all over for you!"

"...Yuffie?"

---

deep dive
another side, another story
step in line, two to nine
dive deep

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The Underworld was neither cold nor hot, but it was definitely unsettling. There was the time when many mocked the musician for fleeing from it -- twice, no less -- but in his silence, Xigbar saw why. Without the stone, it was as if things snuck under your skin and crawled up the spine. It was not like how the Heartless stalked their prey; it was as if death was around the corner, breathing deep and rigid -- panting -- and waiting.

The comparison he really found odd, because they ought to be dead, but they're not... quite.

Hades had already expressed his most foul thoughts on the matter, though he seemed puzzled as well. They were beings with no hearts -- nothing for the Lord of the Dead to collect and send them off to their inevitable fates to.

He couldn't do a damned thing about them. The God was covered in in a fury of flames as he seethed, though did his best to ignore the Nobodies taking up space in his Underworld, likely hoping that Cerberus would take inclination to make chew toys out of them.

It was a shock and less pleasant to meet with Zexion and the others again. They weren't terribly happy about the betrayls and death, but that was an issue that Axel was stuck by himself on. Hell if Xigbar was going to get himself involved.

On one end of the Underworld, Xemnas lamented best he could on his losses and Saix remained devoted as ever -- as if they were ever capable of either lament or loyalty.

On the other end, Larxene was doing her best to be sure that Axel could be killed and inevitably failing, considering their respective locations.

In the middle, Xigbar explored parts that he could, and right behind him followed Demyx like a lost duckling out of the pond, no where else to go.

Damn if it wasn't the truth, though; Demyx was the first in awhile to be killed -- lack of better TERM, whether or not they were even 'dead' was still up in the air -- and the first to meet again with the likes of Marluxia and the others. The kid was probably running around, trying to avoid them best he could, as well as that freakin' Class A creep named Auron.

Sometimes they slept, when it seemed like it was okay to and demons or three-headed dogs weren't going to try to tear them apart -- or at least try, hell if Xigbar would put up with THAT shit.

He didn't rest easily; in the way of things, he spent time letting it sink in: they failed, utterly failed, and damn it, they were stuck in the Underworld and they didn't even have a place THERE.

When he was awake and Demyx slept, he knew the kid was crying, and hell if it wasn't weird. No hearts, no emotions, and the kid was crying in his sleep. Maybe it was pathetic, but it was odd as everything else. Nobodies don't feel much, if at all, and there are indeed tears at times.

Xigbar never knew what to do.

There was the day they looked down from the landbridge into the rising mist from the pool of dead souls. When Xigbar looked, there certainly wasn't compassion. He glowered, even.

Hey. At least you bastards had souls, okay?

"Are we gonna do this forever?" Demyx was squatting at the edge, staring down, his green eyes wide. "Just wandering around and..."

He knew the missing word. 'Surviving'. Hell, they weren't even doing that so much.

"Got nothin' else, Squirt." They lost and that was it. What the hell else were they going to do?

Demyx's tone lowered his voice, mumbling softly, "That's depressing."

"Hey, we can't do depressed." Or much of anything.

There was that look again; Demyx stared at Xigbar, as if he'd said something terribly obscene and offensive -- not hard to do, but not the current case. But damn, if they'd just plainly stated that they didn't have a heart or couldn't feel anything technically, Demyx would always frown and give his disapproval.

"Don't you want to leave?" the musician pressed.

"If we could? Yeah, sure, why the hell not?"

Demyx stood up, pressing a hand to his own chest, where the heart ought to be. "But you want to, right? And... and the Superior wanted Kingdom Hearts. You want a heart."

Hell yes I do didn't have to be stated.

"If there's nothing there, how come we want so much?" Poor kid, determined to prove a point.

As if Xigbar hadn't already thought about it.

"It's probably instinct, Squirt. There's a body, an' not much more than that." Instinct was all that was reliable, anyway.

There was the boy's frown, disagreeing. "But we feel something -- it's got to be something, right?" And Demyx wanted to believe that, of course.

It was all instinct. Body's got to have instinct to survive -- as if they could.

But Xigbar was okay with lying. It wasn't as if he could feel regret. He messed with the kid's ridiculous hairstyle, receiving a noise of complaint from Demyx as he tried to shove away the offending hand and straighten the whole thing out.

"Yeah, sure. Something," Xigbar told him, smirking, turning to walk down the land bridge over the pit of souls.

"But we do." The tone was a whine, typical for the kid, and definitely preferrable over him looking stupidly depressed even though he shouldn't be capable of it. "And-- damn it, you messed it up, I don't have a mirror --we feel things."

Feel instinct. Xigbar didn't say it, though; let the kid deny.

It was all he had, anyway.

"Whaddaya feel?" the sniper dared to ask.

"Sad."

Yeah right, like he could-- Xigbar looked over his shoulder anyway. Demyx's hair was no where near being right again, most of it in his eyes, but he could see them just fine. They were wide open, and he could almost see it if he imagined. But it wasn't grief there. Not quite. He suspected it might have been regret.

Demyx closed his eyes, then formed a lopsided grin more to his nature. "'Cuz I'm stuck here with you, so--"

Lies were still popular, but it was all right. No remorse; Xigbar snorted and stuck the kid in a headlock, gaining another set of complaints from him.

"Whether ya like it or not, Squirt. Got no where else to--"

"That's, uh. Not exactly true-- let me go!"

Xigbar raised a brow and let go, giving him a shove forward; the kid stumbled, but he was fine. Horseplay was something they were used to. "Well?"

"Well, we can't teleport out. Right?" Demyx turned around, grinning sheepishly and still trying to stubbornly put his hair back in place. "There's a set of stairs that goes back up to the surface, so..."

"And the three-headed mutt's protecting the gate, in case you forgot." And no damned weapons to fight with and very little power. No Olympus Stone, sorta dead, and in Hades's domain -- essentially, screwed.

Demyx rubbed the back of his neck. "But it's there. We should leave."

And do what, exactly? Xigbar didn't ask, and he didn't know. Following orders and missions were easy enough for him and harder for a dreamer like Demyx. If they didn't belong in the land of the living or the dead, where the hell would beings of twilight even go?

"We should go and, I dunno, find somewhere to be."

Xigbar was ready to roll his eyes, but Demyx looked at him. Looked determined for his full attention, else there be a spell of further complaints.

"Because I want to." Because it was instinct. "And I want you to come with me."

It wasn't terribly surprising. Axel didn't seem to care much that he was stuck in the Underworld with Larxene bitching up a storm at him, and aside from the Flurry of Dancing Flames, there'd been Roxas that Demyx was fond of -- who HADN'T been? -- and after that, Demyx remained following Xigbar around.

Xigbar didn't mind much. He wasn't particularly sure he even cared, but the kid almost had a way that made him act like he cared enough to make fun of him. It was almost real enough.

If Axel and Roxas had been best friends, then maybe they were friends, too. Hell if he knew.

No further thought on the subject was added; Demyx was sticking out his lower lip, quivering it purposefully, looking utterly pathetic.

"If you're gonna whine, I'm gonna say no."

The kid brightened up, punching the air. "So you're saying yes?"

Instinct says: why the hell not? "I might be. You got any ideas on how to get out, Squirt?"

"We'll come up with something," Demyx said confidently.

Xigbar had a funny feeling that it meant it was up to him to figure out a plan. Number nine never was dependable on that department. Bit of a coward -- lack of heart in the right place, though.

He was eccentric and whiny and clingy as all hell, but Xigbar almost remembered something sometimes out of the Melodious Nocturne.

There was instinct to survive; Nobodies didn't live. Maybe they survived. And then there was instinct to know who was friend and who was foe -- when there was someone to rely on.

But Xigbar almost remembered what it was like to be remotely fond of a person. He supposed he had to blame Axel and Roxas a bit for that particular notion to even want to care.

After Demyx, he fell in line to step, and to the next beat -- and this time, the musician was leading it.