The Unwanted - Phase Ten

Refuse

In the following months, Marluxia became cold. He seemed to cool gradually with the temperature; as winter drew in there was no more lounging around in the garden or even on the sofa, there was no more raiding of the fridge, there were no more interruptions of bath time with wet kisses, and no more rough-and-tumble, messy sex in the deep of the night when everybody else was supposed to be asleep.
I knew that the discovery of Organisation XIII had played some part in his distance - not just from me, but from everybody - but I didn't know how, or to what extent. By the time December was rolling around, he was barely speaking to me at all. The only time we came into contact with each other was at night, when he still settled in my bed. But he wasn't curled around me like he used to be, and aside from a brusque "Good night" every evening, he had nothing to say.
Knowing that Marluxia, volatile even at his best, was going through a difficult period, I tried not to let it get to me - to not let myself be bothered by each increasing time span between kisses because there still were kisses, and to let Marluxia have a bit of space lest I drive him away by holding him back too much. But... it wasn't easy, and eventually I had had enough. I approached him one evening, just as he was stripping down for bed.
"Okay, Marluxia. What's wrong?"
For several minutes, he didn't reply, until he found a pair of flannel pyjama trousers and came to join me in the bed. But instead of lying to my side like he had done recently, he forced me down onto my back and curled up miserably on my chest.
"What's the point?" He whispered as I found the fluff behind his ears and began to rub my fingers into it in gentle, neat circles.
"What's the point of what?"
"Of everything."
"If I knew that I would be a very rich man indeed."
"I didn't mean it like that," Marluxia huffed. "I just..."
He didn't elaborate, and it was for a long time that we were locked in silence, but at least we were locked together.
Eventually Marluxia sighed.
"What are they trying to achieve?"
"Organisation XIII?" I guessed. "They're going to free the Marked."
"As if they could," Marluxia muttered sourly. "But they're powerless."
I glanced questioningly at Marluxia, and he continued.
"Think about it. They've climbed the ladders of power, sure, but to what end? Only to trap themselves at an impossible impasse. They can do nothing; too much rests on their secrecy. If they were to make any moves to free the Unwanted, their true motives would be instantly revealed and they would be killed or worse."
"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"
Marluxia's fists clenched softly in the fabric of my t shirt, his face pressed against my chest. I could feel each breath on my skin as he inhaled and exhaled, slowly.
"Every waking moment."
"They must know what they're doing," I eventually mumbled. "Otherwise they wouldn't be putting their lives in danger for people like you, would they?"
Marluxia shook his head.
"I don't know. I don't know, I can't trust them... Don't you ever get the feeling with people like Xemnas and Zexion that they're not telling us everything?"
"Admittedly, yes, but-"
Marluxia interrupted, passionate anger swelling in his voice.
"Don't you think that they could have their own agenda?"
"But they're Marked themselves," I protested, remembering all too easily the moment that Xemnas stripped away the patch on his face to reveal the signature crescent moon beneath. "Why would they not want the freedom of their own kind?"
"You're forgetting how selfish most people are," Marluxia said sourly. "Give your average werewolf a bed and food, why should he care about the plight of others like him? Take Demyx, for example. He's content to let other Unwanted simply die, and because he's got a safe home it suddenly isn't his problem any more. Xemnas and Saïx could easily be the same."
"But what reason would they - or the people who could potentially be controlling them - have for letting you live?" I argued. "I have three Unwanted living in my house. With access to the internet and communications technology, they could easily become dangerous."
"There are a variety of reasons," Marluxia replied a little vaguely, then paused to think of a couple. "For example, involving a human - who has rights and protection under law - could be detrimental to their operation and purposes."
"I thought that the Organisation was the law?" I said. "Or if not, above it."
"My guess is that they manipulate it, back it up, keep people scared enough to hate the Marked... but they can't change human laws without some kind of backlash." Marluxia replied. A moment later, he yawned. "I know you don't really care for this sort of thing."
"I care about it if you do," I said reproachfully. "I love you, remember?"
Marluxia let out a rueful sigh, the corners of his mouth lifted upwards by a hesitant smile. It was at moments like these that he looked so young, that I remembered that, inside, he was only a child, a confused teenager whose life had suddenly been ripped from him without warning or explanation.
"Yeah," He said thoughtfully. "I love you too."
I smoothed my thumb across his cheek, past the stark black tattoo that branded him forever.
"Marluxia?"
"Hm?"
"How did you change?"
The question made Marluxia frown, his eyebrows creasing unpleasantly.
"That's a painful memory you're asking me to divulge."
"I just want to know," I said gently. "I want to understand you better. I want to know, even if it's just a little bit, what it's like."
Marluxia considered this for a few moments, then nodded, sighing.
"I'd just finished my exams," He said. "I had had my results a few days beforehand. Straight A's. It happened on my prom night. I'd been feeling a bit odd for several days beforehand but I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity, since it was the last time I would see a lot of my friends. I was changing schools for Sixth Form, you see."
He waved his hand vaguely, thickly swallowing.
"We were at the hotel where the prom was taking place, and it must have been at about midnight that I went outside with a few of my friends for a breath of fresh air. It was a full moon, and as soon as the clouds parted - I changed. Just like that."
"Oh." I said quietly.
"It was the most horrible thing I've ever experienced," Marluxia continued. "Of course, transforming is always horrible, but at least now I'm expecting it. I can prepare for the pain. The first time, I had no such luck. I'd been outside for a few minutes when my skin began to prickle - like this."
He dug his nails tightly into the skin on my back, and like a deflating balloon, I let out a pained, unreal hiss. He quickly relinquished his hold, smoothing out the crumpled fabric of my shirt and softly massaging the welts.
"All over my body," He said sourly. "When you change, you can feel yourself swelling, like somebody's filling you with blood and rage. I remember screaming, I remember the seams on my clothes ripping, I remember the colour in my vision fading to black and white. I tried to stop myself, but I had no idea what was going on..." He trailed off into silence, glancing momentarily at me in the half-darkness.
I kissed his tears away.
"When I woke in the morning I was bleeding in a ditch at the side of a road somewhere," He murmured after a moment of shared solemnity. "I had this-" He pointed to the mark on his cheek; "And I had these."
He ran his fingers across several scars on his arms and chest - a badly healed slit here, a bullet wound there.
"I was lucky to have survived. I think that I ran."
"And after that?" I prompted gently. Marluxia barked a laugh.
"For a while I tried to return home, but I soon gave up hope. I lived for a while with a pack of werewolves like me, but we were gunned out after a few months. I don't know who of us survived, but it wasn't many. I'd been living solo after that, surviving attacks by sheer, blind luck. Then, one night, Larxene found me - the rest, they say, is history."
There wasn't really anything I could say to that, so I didn't. I just held Marluxia close as he surrendered to mourning, painful helplessness in my arms. But that night I came clear about the Unwanted. Marluxia's story wasn't the only one, there must have been hundreds, thousands of people in this country alone with their lives stripped from them by a genetic mutation they couldn't control, and even more who, like Lexaeus, were born with the affliction - or never born at all. Aborted, like that. How many innocent people had the system that everybody thought kept them safe killed?
Then there were people like Demyx, turned artificially as a last resort as though being Marked was somehow better than death, or like Xigbar - revulsion turned in my stomach as his name and circumstances swam forth in my mind - who had got on the wrong side of the Organisation and had their lives forcefully ripped away.
No wonder Marluxia felt so strongly about the freedom of the Marked. But what could we, just a haphazard half-family of five people living in the comfortable suburbs of a small English city, do?

---

The morning was Saturday, and I awoke to Marluxia's whispering breath in my ear, to the palms of his hands pressed one between my shoulder blades and one in the small of my back, to his warm tail laying slack on my hip.
No matter how bleak the situation, I was glad to have him back in my arms. When he stirred a considerable while after me, it was all soft kisses and touches as we coaxed each other to life.
Larxene was in the kitchen when we came down, and she tipped towards us an imaginary hat as we entered.
"Lexaeus called." She said once the menial task of greeting and requesting cups of tea was done with. Marluxia perked up immediately.
"He did?"
"Said he needed to speak with you, Marluxia," Larxene continued, pointing to the werewolf. "I told him that you were probably off having make up sex with Vexen."
I spluttered indignantly at her but Marluxia simply smiled quirkily, glancing in my direction.
"Later."
"He didn't say anything else," Larxene continued. "I guess it was private or something. You didn't take those meds, did you, Marly?"
"That's Marluxia," Marluxia huffed, but he shook his head in response to her question. "And no. Lexaeus told me not to."
"He did?" I said as a mug of tea was presented to me, surprised. "When was that?"
"Just before we left," Marluxia said, stretching. A shiver ran down his spine, and fluffed up his tail in interesting ways. "He didn't actually say anything explicitly, but the look he gave me suggested that it was probably a bad idea. I don't think that Zexion can be trusted."
"He's an angel," Larxene mumbled with mouth full of toast. "You can't trust angels."
"You're the first person I've heard ever to say that," I muttered back. "But.. we'll see."
Marluxia had found the phone and was calling back Lexaeus. I listened in, but I couldn't hear what the other werewolf was saying and all Marluxia seemed to be replying with was monosyllabic confirmations to unheard questions.
Five minutes later, he put down the phone.
"It seems that I was right." Marluxia announced, finding the syringe and emptying its contents down the sink. "Things have been changing," He continued; "The Organisation is already beginning to fall apart and so too Organisation XIII inside it. A man in league with the latter was discovered, and killed. We-" he gestured to the three of us in the room, and to the sitting room where the Xigbar and Demyx collective was probably cuddling, "Are officially wanted."
"Makes a change from Unwanted," Larxene remarked.
"And by "wanted", I mean "wanted dead"." Marluxia said dryly.
"Ah."

---

On Lexaeus' command, we boarded up the windows, disconnected our internet and phone lines, and set up camp in the kitchen with mattresses dragged down from the bedrooms. The only thing left connecting us to the outside world was Larxene's mobile phone, and in the middle of the kitchen table it sat, waiting on a call that none of us were certain would come.
It was surreal. It was surreal, and I was scared.
Sensing my fear, Marluxia sat next to me, one arm around my shoulder, and so too did Xigbar and Demyx huddle close together, leaving Larxene to pace with increasing agitation back and forth, back and forth, from fridge to radiator and back again. None of us said a word as the night drew in, as howls echoed somewhere in the distance. Marluxia spoke once -
"At least it isn't a full moon."
- and humourlessly, we laughed, but that was it.
It was nearing midnight when the phone rang. We all jumped, and Demyx laughed nervously. Larxene picked it up, tense.
"Yeah. Right. Okay."
She put the phone down.
"Zexion and Lexaeus are here," She said. "They're here and they're coming in."
I nodded, standing stiffly and unbolting the door to usher them in. Lexaeus easily pushed the kitchen table across the door once they were in, and they made their way back to the kitchen.
"I trust that Marluxia has not taken the medications."
"No."
"Turn off the phone."
"Okay."
Zexion pulled out a device of some sort, and with it scanned the kitchen - it turned up nothing and satisfied, he pocketed it and sat down a little away from the rest of us. Lexaeus simply nodded towards Marluxia, towering protectively at Zexion's side.
"I think it's time that you all knew what exactly is going on." Zexion said.
"Damn right," Marluxia muttered under his breath, and was shot down with a cold glare.
"The situation has been too volatile to tell you previously," Zexion continued. "We have just had to trust in your own judgement for your survival. But now... we realise that things are only getting worse. The Unwanted are stirring across the American continents, and with them destruction and death has followed. It is not safe here. It is not safe anywhere."
We all nodded dutifully, except Marluxia who rolled his eyes.
"We have been dancing on hot coals," Zexion declared. "Those in league with Organisation XIII are in great danger indeed. It has been considered best that we take refuge in a safe haven until things have... settled."
"So we run." Marluxia clarified sourly. "So we run with our tails between our legs and leave those not fortunate enough to be "in league" with us to die at the hands of the Organisation?"
Zexion sighed, hands held up in surrender.
"There will be... sacrifices..."
"There is nothing noble in cowering in shadows!" Marluxia yelled back, teeth bared in an ugly snarl.
"There is even less noble in dying for a lost cause." Zexion retorted, but I could see the pain in his one visible turquoise eye. He, like me, cared for the Unwanted and their lives, and from the way he looked at Lexaeus I suspected that it could be more than just that, but he knew that the Organisation learning of his mutiny would cost him and his loved ones dear.
Marluxia clearly did not understand.
"It is not a lost cause if there is but one fool left to fight for it." He instantly snapped back. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Demyx silently mouth something, and I gave him a questioning glance.
"He's quoting," The gargoyle whispered. The fear was in his eyes, wracking his body.
"It doesn't matter," Marluxia huffed. "What I say still holds true. I refuse to run when my kind are dying in the streets."
Zexion threw back a vile glare, rising to the challenge.
"Do you think I do not know?" He demanded. "Do you think that I could be so heartless as to simply turn a blind eye at each new reported death, as lives around us simply crumble?"
"And yet you run." Marluxia stated.
"If I escape to return with my life and reputation in tact," Zexion corrected, "Then I live to fight another day when I actually have a chance to take down the system."
"You are cowering!" Marluxia insisted, pointing an accusing finger. "You and your cohort of despicable friends, cowering. What happened to your pride? Did the years of hiding in shadows crush that along with your sanity?"
Zexion stood abruptly.
"Marluxia." He said calmly, all too terrifyingly calmly. "Do not make me out to be the enemy. Remember that it is people like you who we risk our lives to help."
"And yet you handed me medications that could very well have killed me?" Marluxia replied incredulously, but he was loosing momentum. Even he would eventually have to admit that Zexion was right.
"It would not have killed you. It was only a placebo."
"Oh."
Marluxia sat back, his ears flattened against his head. He would not make eye contact with Zexion, who sat down also. After a few moments of silence, Larxene let out a sigh.
"So what happens now?"
Everybody glanced expectantly at Zexion.
"We leave at dawn to a private air-centre a few miles west of here. There a private jet will take us and several others to a remote location until things have settled down."
Demyx, who was on the verge of tears, mumbled incoherently into Xigbar's chest. Larxene nodded slowly. I waited for Marluxia's reaction - be it explosive or submissive - and indeed there was one. He looked up, venom in his eyes, and formed with his lips a single syllable.
"No."