[FIFTEEN]

            Castle Oblivion wasn’t a place fit to be inhabited by a young girl, even one who was a witch and a Nobody.  Amidst the scheming and betrayal and evil that occurred there, Namine remained as still as early-morning dew as the crux and apex of Organization XII’s plans.  They kept her in the center of the castle, subject to their whims and petty torments. 

            There was one part of Namine’s un-life that broke through the dark and uncertainty.  The Riku Replica came to Namine each day, no matter what sinister task the members of the Organization forced upon him.  Even though he spoke little and she even less, the two of them were content to be together and silent as long as they were together. 

            Replica was the only person in the entire castle who considered Namine as anything more than a weapon or something to be remembered idly at the last moment.  He cared for her.  He watched over her.  He saw her as a person.  Namine knew that Replica was ignorant of the truth – that neither of them were actually people.  She wanted to spare him the pain of that knowledge for as long as she could, just as she wished someone could have spared her.

            “Namine.”  Riku would walk into the room where they kept her.  His step was soft, but not like the step of man who sought to hide.  It was the step of a man who possessed quiet, insurmountable confidence.  He didn’t need to pound down the halls like Axel or Xigbar, who stomped as if they were trying to prove a point.  

            “Hello, Riku.”  Namine would smile up at him as he walked towards her desk in the center of the room.  He’d walk over and stand behind her.

            “What are you working on today, Namine?”  He would ask. 

            “I’m drawing us like we used to be.  Do you remember this?”  Namine would hold up a drawing and show him.  It would be of many different things.  Sometimes a beach, sometimes a cave, sometimes a raft sitting in the sand. 

            Replica would frown down at the drawing for a moment, then smooth his face.  He wouldn’t want her to know that he didn’t remember any of it. 

            “Yeah, there’s our beach,” he would say.  “And there’s the raft.  Do you remember when we sailed it?  That was lots of fun, wasn’t it, Namine?”

            Namine would get a sad look in her eyes and turn away.  He wouldn’t remember…

            On this day, however, Namine was concerned.  Replica was late and he was never late.  Not to meet her. 

            Every step that fell in the hallway outside made Namine straighten in her seat, hoping that he would walk in.  An hour passed, then another and there was still no sign of Replica.  Namine got increasingly anxious, her fingers stilling on her drawings. 

            Finally, the door creaked slowly open and Namine looked up, bright and hopeful.  Then, with in a few seconds, her face fell and became full of worry.  Replica stood in the doorway, his armor ripped and mangled and covered in blood.  Red smeared his silver hair and pale skin and dripped from his fingertips and hair onto the floor. 

            “Riku…”  Namine began to rise, but the Replica shook his head.

            “No…  It’s okay…”  He walked in slowly, a trial of blood in his wake.  Namine slowly sank into her chair, watching him. 

            Each step was agonizing and slow, but he pressed forward.  When he reached her table, he sank down to his knees and crawled to her side. 

            “Nami… ne…”  He laid his head in her lap, the picture of submission.  Blood seeped into her white dress, but she didn’t care.  Namine took Replica’s head in her arms and held it gently.

            “I’m here, Riku…”  She stroked his silver-red hair with her delicate hands.  “I’m here…  It’ll be okay…”

            He closed his eyes and surrendered.