Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. This fic was written by SilverCables.


I miss the way Organization XIII used to be, in the beginning before everything fell apart at the seams. The way it used to be, when we were still one big, dysfunctional family, and there weren't any subgroups or cliques plotting to take over. I miss that, especially now that everything's gone to hell. Half of us are dead, and the rest are just trying to survive.

I miss the days when the Superior actually thought about us, cared a little about our existence. Before, when the Organization wasn't quite complete yet, and he was still trying to get all of us our hearts back When he wasn't sacrificing us left and right for his own personal gain.

I miss the times when you could mention Roxas's name to Axel and not have him breathe fire. I miss the way it was, just the three of us. I remember the way Axel would drag Roxas all over the place, saying that they were "best friends" and needed to hang out together. I was always tagging along behind the two, and they let me because Axel couldn't see the harm and Roxas didn't care.

I miss how Xigbar, in his own way, looked after everyone. I miss the way he would always muss up my hair and call me "Kid." Most of all, I miss the way he would listen to me when I was "upset." Nowadays, he doesn't talk to the newer members anymore, and when he does talk to me, he treats me like a complete stranger.

I miss Marluxia's garden, and how he'd let me tend to it sometimes, when he was feeling generous. The garden was everything we weren't, cheerful and blooming with life. It always calmed me, made me tranquil, when I sat in the middle of all the flowers and plants and trees and relaxed. I guess it reminded me of what it was like to have a heart, and what it would be like when we got them back. The garden isn't there anymore, though. It died soon after Marluxia did. The flowers wilted, one by one, and then the plants and trees died. Try as I might, I couldn't save them, and I had to watch as my last source of comfort withered away before my eyes.

I miss the days when the original six still talked to us neophytes. I miss the times when they didn't judge us for how and when we were created. I hate the atmosphere around the Castle That Never Was these days; the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. I wish I could still play my sitar without fear of one of the other members snapping and turning on me. I want to go back to the time when we were all bound together by out differences, our defect, and didn't exist in constant distrust of the others.

So I'll fight the Keybearer. Because, even though I know that nothing will be the same again, I need to have something to hope for, something to aim towards. And if that means I have to lie to myself about what is really happening, if that means that I will die as something I'm not, believing in something I don't, then so be it. I'll keep a smile on my lips, pretend to have a heart, even though I realize now that I never will. And no-one, especially not the Keybearer, will take my dream – my fantasy – from me!