This is my first crack at a one-shot, so be nice. Square-Enix owns all of this, not me. *sniffle*

You and I weighed such consequences
And turned away from love's unreasoning madness,
Wounded,
Scarred,
Yet saved from eternal sorrow by the words:
I will always love you.

I am not alone.
You love me,
Still.

It's almost enough.

Riku's lying to himself and he knows it.

He looks at himself in the dark computer screen, the closest thing he has to a mirror, and marvels at how much he's changed. Taller, for one thing. Well, he'd always been tall, but he's gained four inches in the past six months. Seems like it's been longer, but he counts back the days, and sure enough, it's only been six months since Sora fell asleep, since Riku defeated Ansem's shadow – for now – since he and DiZ and Namine had to flee Castle Oblivion.

His face is longer, thinner, and his skin's paler – a result of being inside all the time, no doubt. The sun seems so bright now, almost blinding, even the faded sunset of Twilight Town. Its brilliance stuns him.

His hair is long, really long. He's let it get out of hand, and it hangs in his eyes – the only part of him that hasn't changed, the only indication that the old Riku, the boy he'd been once upon a time, is still in there somewhere. They're the only splash of color visible now, vivid blue-green against ivory, silver, black.

He hardly even recognizes himself anymore.

Riku smells DiZ before he hears him, a dark odor, more mysterious than foul, but tainted with concealed anger and hate. He wonders if DiZ knows Riku can smell it on him – the not-so-deeply buried desire for revenge. He's getting good at identifying the smells, now.

"I have something for you," DiZ says.

Riku suppresses irritation. What is he, a guard dog? He hates it, this constant manipulation; he hates being used, hates being a tool. He pushes away the distaste. It doesn't matter, because they want the same thing – for now, at least.

Because as strong as Riku is, as clever as DiZ is, Sora is still their only hope.

Namine bends over the paper, brow furrowed in concentration, eyes sharp. Small, deliberate strokes, white, red, blue; the pale beige scribble of skin; the bold, dark spikes of brown. She can sketch him in her sleep, now, without even thinking about it. It's become so natural, seeing Sora in her mind's eye.

Kairi's figure has gotten easy as well, all white and purple and red, pastels next to Sora's bright colors, complements of each other. It used to hurt, seeing them next to each other, even in drawings, but Namine has gotten used to it now, and besides, Nobodies don't really feel pain anyway, not the emotional kind.

She hesitates now, black pencil in hand, and thinks better of it, laying it aside. She hold her sketchbook out, examining it.

Right, Namine decides. The drawing is all bright, warm colors. There's no room for black here.

It's a little sad, that Riku doesn't belong in this drawing. She flips the page over, smoothing out a fresh white sheet.

It should be easy to draw him, he's all monochromatic. But Namine always has trouble with the black pencil – it's shorter than the rest, with all the black cloaks she's been drawing, lately. Marluxia, Larxene, Vexen. Later, Axel and Roxas, and now Riku. The pencil's so short it's uncomfortable to hold it, the end of it digging in to the flesh of her thumb.

On a whim, she tosses the black pencil aside, taking up the blue. He always looks uncomfortable in that cloak, so she draws him jeans, and a sleeveless jacket, white and yellow. She knows he hates sleeves, although she can't remember how she learned that. She leans back and ponders, absently nibbling on the end of her pencil. She's seen almost all of Sora's memories, and she can't ever remember seeing Riku wear sleeves. She wonders if he feels constrained in that heavy cloak.

Namine finishes the sketch with a long, shaggy mess of silver hair, smiling to herself, and stands. She closes the sketchbook, laying it on the table, and wanders out into the hall.

It's gloomy in this mansion, with nothing but half-light from the sunset outside. That's why she asked DiZ to paint her room white. He'd laughed at the frivolity of little girls, but Namine had walked in one day to find Riku with a paintbrush in hand, looking like he'd been caught doing something wrong, flecks of white all over his cloak. DiZ had to find him a new one after that, which was okay because Riku had outgrown the old one anyway.

Namine was surprised to find the mansion so empty – usually Riku would be here somewhere, asleep in the old drawing room, or brooding on the stairs, maybe. She goes to push open the door to the library, where the entrance to DiZ's computer room is, but DiZ sweeps out before she gets there, nearly knocking her over.

He doesn't even apologize – not that she's surprised – and makes it halfway down the stairs before Namine can ask, "Where's Riku?"

DiZ pauses, clearly amused by something, but answers, "Out."

Namine scowls at the man's retreating back, wondering what sort of mission he's sent Riku on this time. 'Out' means that Riku will come back exhausted and possibly injured, and the next day DiZ will report that something non-interesting has happened with the Organization, or that the Nobodies haunting some world have been exterminated.

She goes back to her white room and waits.

It's not until late that night that Riku finally stumbles in to her room and makes it a scant three steps before collapsing. She's ready for it, and though she's too small to support all of his weight, she helps him into a chair.

She doesn't know why he comes to her room first when he gets back from being 'out', before he reports to DiZ, even before he cleans himself up. She's never asked.

Riku buries his face in his hands and takes several slow, deep breaths. She waits patiently in the chair next to him, knowing he'll talk when he's ready.

She's well aware that she knows him better than anyone else at this moment, with Sora asleep and Kairi's memories jumbled. She knows he needs a friend more than anything else right now, a real friend to balance out DiZ's manipulation and the Organization's enmity. Although he'll never admit it, he's lonely.

"They're getting smarter," Riku says finally.

Namine lays a tiny hand on his arm, white against black. "What happened?"

He shakes his head. "DiZ asked me to go to Hollow Bastion. The Nobodies are everywhere, because – well, because the Heartless are everywhere, and the Nobodies are drawn to them. DiZ thought they might be coming from the ruins of Maleficent's castle. He asked me to go check it out."

"And…?" Namine asks.

Riku runs his hands through his long hair. "I walked into an ambush. There were… hundreds of them, waiting for me. They must have heard me coming."

"Why didn't they attack you right away?" Namine wonders aloud, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

"I don't know," Riku admits. He starts to stand but his legs won't hold him, and he falls back into the chair.

"You're hurt?" Namine squeaks.

He shakes his head. "Not much. Just… tired." He hunches over, using his forearms as a pillow, and closes his eyes.

Namine studies his face. She's had enough experience reading Riku's vague expressions to know that he's shaken about something, and she suspects he hasn't told her everything about his recent venture 'out'.

Eventually his face softens as he falls asleep on her table, and she seizes her sketchbook on a sudden impulse. He looks so vulnerable when he sleeps, and she wants to smooth his hair back from his face, wants to cradle him in her arms, wants to protect him from the darkness inside himself, the darkness she knows is always lurking beneath the surface.

Riku doesn't sleep for long before the dreams start again.

Sometimes they are anguished dreams, full of darkness and memories of Ansem. In those dreams he is a puppet again, forced to look on as Ansem uses his body to destroy his island home, forced to watch as he turns against his friends. After those dreams, he always wakes cold and clammy, alert to the darkness still within him, even if it is his own darkness and not Ansem's.

But tonight the dreams are wistful rather than frightful. Tonight he dreams of violet eyes and red hair, creamy skin and kind smiles.

He knows why he misses Kairi and not Sora, because at least he knows what Sora is doing, knows that Sora is safe. Kairi's fate, however, is a mystery to him. He assumes she's back on the islands, although he really has no way of knowing that.

He still loves her.

He hates himself for it, because loving her started this whole mess he was in. He remembers that fateful evening on the beach, when he'd gone back to make sure they'd tied up the raft, and overheard Sora and Kairi on the dock.

Sora, let's take the raft and go – just the two of us!

That was the first time that he'd really known – known that she loved Sora more than him.

That revelation had sent him over the edge, and the darkness had answered his call.

Being controlled by Ansem showed him just how petty he was. He'd destroyed his own home, thrown away the best friends he'd ever had, for jealousy. So when he found himself on the other side of the door to darkness, he thought long and hard about what he would say to Sora, if he ever had the chance.

Take care of her.

He's never been good at being self-sacrificing, and saying the words can't make them come true. But Sora and Kairi were made for each other, and Riku – well, he's been through worse than unrequited love.

He should be over her by now, but now he's met her shadow.

Namine.

It's frightening, really, because as much as she looks like Kairi, she's not. Kairi has never known the meaning of loneliness. Kairi has always had something to hope for.

Namine has always known that she is nothing.

Maybe that's why Riku is so drawn to her. She even smells like Kairi, a little – but the smell is more poignant, with hints of loneliness and despair mixed in with the gentleness and compassion that are so wholly Kairi.

Despair is something Riku understands better than anyone.

He wakes to Namine's smiling face – Kairi's blue-violet eyes framed by soft blonde hair. Everything about her is pale, from her skin to her dress to her hair, as if you could blink and she'd be gone, faded into her surroundings.

"Good morning, sunshine," she says sweetly.

He blinks a few times to orient himself and realizes that he's fallen asleep on her table. "Hi," he says groggily, pushing himself up on stiff muscles, and his injuries throb. He rubs the worst one absentmindedly, a long gash across his left forearm, where he hadn't parried with Soul Eater in time and had thrown his arm up to protect his face.

"Let me see," Namine insists, and before Riku can shake his head she pulls his glove off and pushes up what's left of his black sleeve. She inhales sharply at the sight of his arm, the jagged edges of the wound red and puckered, the scab still fresh and shiny.

"You should clean this out," she scolds him, and he doesn't mention that he was going to, but he fell asleep on a certain someone's table. He lets her push him back down into the chair as she retrieves her medical supplies from the tiny cabinet at one end of the room. He remembers the first time he'd stumbled in after a fight and she hadn't had anything to patch him up with. After that, she'd always been prepared.

Riku is used to how cold her fingers are, and doesn't flinch as she dabs antiseptic in the wound and wraps it in clean white linen. Her hands linger a little whenever she touches his skin, and he wonders if he feels warm to her.

He takes her hand on impulse and turns it over in his own, tracing the lines of her palm with a callused finger. "You're freezing," he says.

She shrugs but doesn't pull her hand away. "No heart, no pulse," she tells him lightly, although he can hear the edge of resentment in her voice. "No pulse, no circulation, no body heat."

Without thinking he stands and pulls her to him, surrounding her in the circle of his arms, her face pressed into his chest. She feels tiny there, fragile. As if the slightest wrong move could break her in two.

He holds her for a while, then pulls away, looking into her eyes, more blue than Kairi's soft violet.

"Better?" he asks.

She nods shyly, ducking her head, and he tousles her blonde hair before leaving.

"Riku, are you okay?" she asks, but he is already out the door.

He should just tell her, Riku thinks.

But he knows exactly what will happen if he does, and he doesn't want to see that expression on her face, fear and worry and maybe even a little revulsion.

No one's ever worn the darkness the way you do.

And the reason was obvious – because no one could ever control it, not entirely. Not even himself. Yesterday, fighting the Nobodies in Hollow Bastion, he'd been afraid, for the first time since he'd conquered Ansem. Because the dark spirit is still inside him, after all this time, and he can't control it.

But he knows the importance of having it as a weapon. And so he uses the darkness, even though he knows that if he keeps on like this it will destroy him – because he has to. No one else could be that reckless. That stupid.

But he can, because at this point he doesn't even care what happens to him anymore.

Riku's feet carry him downstairs, and as he passes Ansem's computer he pauses out of habit, examining his own reflection.

Yesterday, fighting the Nobodies, he'd caught sight of his reflection in a fragment of broken glass, and panicked. Because his eyes are supposed to be blue, and yesterday, however briefly, they had been orange.

Today they are back to normal, but he knows better. He can feel the darkness inside him, getting stronger every time he uses it. And the stronger his own darkness gets, the closer Ansem's shadow gets.

Seeing Ansem's eyes staring out of his own face is something Riku isn't ready for yet.

He continues to the pod room and looks up at his best friend, wondering what Sora would say to Riku's predicament.

Whoever you are, let Riku go! Give him back his heart!

Sora wouldn't want Riku to give up now.

"Right," he says aloud. "I've still got work to do."

Namine sketches by the light of the lamp on her table, because the sun has been down for hours. She's long since given up trying to sleep, her mind too busy with worry to allow her rest.

Riku should be back by now.

Her pencil breaks, and she scowls at it, as if she could fix it simply by glaring. Frustrated, she sets it down, but her hands don't want to be still. She presses her fingers against her mouth to keep from fidgeting, feeling how cold they are, remembering how warm Riku had made them.

Namine knows that Nobodies don't have feelings, don't even really exist, but then, she's not like other Nobodies, is she? She has magic that none of the others did. She feels lonely.

But who is she kidding? It's too much to hope that she could be something… more.

Maybe that's why she can't stop thinking about him. Because Riku was the first person who ever gave her something to hope for. There was Sora… but with Sora, everything he'd thought about her was a lie. With Riku, she could be completely herself, heartwitch or Nobody or just a little girl, and she was still the person he came to when he was exhausted and broken and in need.

She can't stand not knowing where he is, whether he's in danger.

Her door opens, and her hopes soar, but it isn't Riku, it's DiZ. She gets up nervously – he never comes here – and asks, "Um… is something wrong?"

DiZ looks around the room and says, "Riku hasn't come back yet?"

Fear grips her body, because if even DiZ is worried about him, he must be in trouble.

"No," she manages.

DiZ frowns and sweeps out of the room without another word.

Namine collapses into a chair, treacherous knees giving way, and clutches her hands to her chest, praying fervently to anyone who would listen. Please. Keep him safe. Bring him back safe. Please.

The mansion is unbearably quiet.

It isn't until just before dawn, grey tendrils of light snaking across the horizon, that Namine hears movement.

She bursts out of her room and nearly falls over the railing in her haste to see downstairs. Below, a cloaked figure staggers across the hall, and if she had a heart it would be leaping, because the figure is Riku, and although he looks like hell he's alive, and moving.

She lurches down the stairs to his side, adding her strength to his. His face turns toward her, but he doesn't say anything, as if he doesn't have the energy for words. A narrow black blindfold covers his eyes.

Together they make it to her room, and Riku slumps against the wall, unable to even make it to a chair. She slides down next to him, brow creased in worry.

"Riku?" she asks, terrified that he's not talking. "Riku, say something." She presses her hands to the sides of his face, and his skin feels as if it's on fire, warmer even than usual.

"I'm okay," he manages before falling into her, the side of his face against her shoulder, and she watches him for a long time before falling asleep as well.

When Namine wakes up he's still asleep, and she squints into the sun streaming in her window, trying to figure out what time it is. Sometime in the afternoon.

Riku stirs, and she peers at his face, unable to tell if he's awake or not.

"Riku?" she whispers, and is answered by a grunt, and she smiles in spite of herself.

He sits up and rubs his face as if trying to iron it out with his palms. "Hey."

She's so relieved to hear his voice, groggy but not pained, that for a moment she forgets what she's supposed to be doing, until she realizes that she's gripping the bottle of antiseptic so hard that it's liable to implode any second. "Are you hurt?" she demands.

"No," Riku tells her, and for once he's telling the truth, not just downplaying something. "Just… tired."

From the tone of his voice she takes 'tired' to mean not just physically but mentally, too, emotionally, even. Finally she works up the nerve to ask, "Is it Ansem?"

Something – fear? shock? – spasms across his face, but she can't read an answer, because she can't see his eyes. Without thinking she reaches up to tug his blindfold off, wondering why he's wearing it, but a gloved hand clamps around her wrist, hard.

"Don't," he says harshly, and now Namine is afraid again. Not of him – she could never be afraid of him, she's seen how gentle he is, although he tries to hide it – but for him.

"What happened?" she whispers.

It's then that she realizes the hand around her wrist is shaking, and Riku seems to notice, too, because he releases her and stands, muttering, "I need to report to DiZ."

Somehow Riku works up the courage to go back to her room, to face her inevitable questions. She's sketching, but he knows she's just pretending, he knows she's been waiting for him.

"He's close," Riku finally confesses, and bypasses the chairs to sit on the table itself. "I – I was fighting Nobodies in Hollow Bastion, again – but they sent someone for me, they must have known I'd come back to finish the job –"

"Who?" Namine asks breathlessly.

"I don't know. He had blue hair."

"Saix," Namine whispers, and he wonders if she knows him. The name leaves her visibly shaken.

"He's good," Riku admits. "I had to use the darkness. I didn't want to, because… because I could feel Ansem, there. But… I used it… and Ansem got out. I… I became him."

Namine tries to stifle a gasp, but he hears her, and shakes his head.

"It's my eyes," he says, the words falling over each other in their rush to get out. Almost like if he can say them quickly, they won't be as terrible. "Lately… lately they've been changing colors. Sometimes they're his eyes. So I – I don't know why, but I put the blindfold on, and I became myself again. It's like… it's like they show who I really am. They show the darkness inside me."

"That's not who you are," Namine says firmly, taking his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her, her ivory face dim through the thin fabric of the blindfold. "Darkness dwells within you, but it doesn't define you. Darkness is your weapon. But it's not who you are."

"I can't control it, Namine," he whispers, and for the first time fear breaks through in his voice. "What if it takes over again? What if I… what if I lose myself to it?"

"You won't," she says softly. "You're strong, Riku. Stronger than anyone I've ever known." He snorts, and she knows what he's thinking, she always knows. "Sora's strong, but he couldn't control the darkness like you. No one can. You're the only one strong enough, because you've been on both sides, conquered and conqueror, and you know what it's like. You'll never let it get the better of you, I know it."

He wonders why she has such faith in him.

Riku reaches up, fingers curling around hers, holding her hand against his cheek. The coolness of her touch feels like heaven against his feverish skin. Without thinking he turns and presses his lips to her palm.

He can smell her surprise, and also disbelief. And, masked but present, sudden happiness, and hope.

He acts on impulse and pulls her to him, mouth crushing hers, one hand circling her waist, the other in her soft blonde hair. Her shock is tangible, but it isn't long before she's kissing him back, and he revels in the sweet, pure taste of her, the feel of her tiny body pressed against his.

After a while they break apart, breathless, and Namine looks up at him, blue eyes wide. He smiles, but somehow there's sorrow, too, and it takes him a moment to realize why.

He's fallen in love with a Nobody, and he knows what her fate will be. Because the destiny of all Nobodies is to fade. And eventually, Namine will have to return to Kairi.

Riku pulls her to him again, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her light, sweet scent. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn't have the words. The two of them stay there a long time, wordless, listening to each other's breathing and the evening noises from outside.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Why?" Namine asks, surprised.

"I've known you for months," he says. "We could have had so much time."

She looks up at him and he knows she's holding back tears, fighting admirably. "Better late than never," she tells him.

She always did know the exact right things to say.

But fickle time has never been their friend.

Six months turns into seven, and seven into eight, until it's been eleven months – almost a year – since Sora went to sleep.

Namine looks up at the smooth white pod and curses softly under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Riku asks, and she spins on the spot, wondering why she didn't hear him come in. Then again, the darkness seems to be a part of him now, two entities that can't be separated.

It scares her.

She's only managed to coax him out of his blindfold once. She loves running her hands through his hair – long and soft and warm – and she brushed the knot of his blindfold, and on a whim pulled it apart. He'd frozen like stone in her arms, breath catching as she slid the fabric off his face.

She still doesn't know why she did it. She knew what would happen. But she had to see for herself.

The sight of Ansem inches away was absolutely terrifying. But as frightened as she was, she couldn't even imagine the terror and the pain and the doubt that Riku was experiencing.

"Namine?" Riku says again. "What's wrong?"

She glances up at Sora's sleeping form sadly. "It's not working."

"What do you mean?" he asks warily, resting a hand on her shoulder. She's noticed that he likes having a hand on her, or an arm around her waist, always touching her, as if she's the only tangible thing anchoring him to reality. Maybe she is.

"The memories. I…" She clasps her hands together, drawing them against her stomach. "I've done so much, but – some of them just won't go together. I –"

"Slow down," Riku says, pulling her down into a sitting position next to him. "Start over."

"Memories are like chains," she begins, and he nods – he knows that, he's heard it a hundred times. "To forge a chain, you have to make each link separate. And memories go together. They – it's like they like being where they belong. When a memory gets, um, close… to a memory it 'likes', they just kind of fall into place. But some of them – even though I know they go together, they're supposed to, they just won't. I try to push them together, but it's like trying to force two of the same magnets together. There's this space between them that I can't get rid of. Like there's something missing that's supposed to go there."

"You're sure you're not missing any?" Riku asks.

Namine nods. "When I broke them apart, I didn't destroy them. The only memories that were destroyed were the false ones I made myself."

"What if he was missing memories before?" he wonders.

She laughs feebly. "That's impossible. He'd have to…"

Her face falls, and Riku suddenly realizes what it is she's discovered. "Memories from another side of his heart, that maybe he was okay without before, but now…"

"Yes," Namine says wearily. "That must be it. He was okay without them because he had other memories to make up for them. But now he's missing a whole chain of memories – because the time in Castle Oblivion's gone, and he has nothing to replace them. So his heart won't let him wake up."

"There has to be something we can do," Riku says.

Namine smiles wistfully at the sound of it – we. DiZ would have said you.

"We need to find Roxas," she says.

"Find…" he repeats, and both of them can hear the unspoken 'and capture'.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers brokenly, because it means that he'll have to be the one to go and do it, and he'll have to struggle to contain the darkness, and she knows how that scares him. She may be the only one that knows. The only one he'd ever admit it to.

"Don't be," he says. "It has to happen. It's not your fault."

"If I hadn't broken Sora's memories, this never would have happened," she points out.

"What's in the past is done," he says firmly, and she wonders if he's talking not only to her but also to himself. Because they've both done things they regret.

He leans down and kisses her, and there's a troubled edge to his lips, as if he knows they're running out of time. She binds herself closer to him, wrapping thin arms around his broad shoulders.

He pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers. "I'd better go tell DiZ," he says.

"Be careful," she begs him, wishing she could look him in the eyes.

"I always am," Riku says wryly.

He comes back two days later with an unconscious Roxas slung over his shoulder and Ansem's features in the place of his own.

He's pulled the hood of his cloak over his face, but it's still painfully obvious what's happened. He's uncomfortable in this bigger, older body. He keeps bumping into things, unused to the length of his limbs and the extra strength in his muscles. In any other situation it would be funny.

He's abandoned the blindfold now – what's the point? he thinks bitterly.

His grim prize is dumped unceremoniously in a white pod. Never mind that he is Sora's Nobody, and a part of Sora, and therefore a part of Riku's best friend. None of them want to think about the small blonde boy who has caused – however indirectly – even more misery in this gloomy place.

Riku avoids Namine now, and although she understands, that doesn't keep the stray tear from coursing down her face.

She commits herself entirely to her work now, and with Roxas here, in close proximity, the memories fall into place like the notes of a beautiful melody. Sora will wake within the week.

And what happens then? she asks herself.

She knows the answer.

"It's high time she disappeared. Take care of it… Ansem."

Riku turns away and walks out the door without so much as a second glance at the man who has so conceitedly called himself Riku's ally. He wonders if DiZ really thinks this order will be followed.

Maybe that's what he wants – for Riku to disobey the order and just run. Maybe Namine's not the only one who's 'outlived her usefulness'.

He sprints headlong for the pod room.

She's there, just like she has been for the past six days. Purple shadows are forming under her eyes, as if she hasn't slept in days. Maybe she hasn't.

"I'm finished," she says. "Sora will wake up in the morning."

"We won't be here," he tells her.

Her blue eyes are sad but unwavering. "I know. I… I told him I'd be here, but…"

"He won't remember," Riku points out, a sad attempt at a joke.

"I know," she says again.

She steps toward him and wraps her arms around his waist, and he doesn't flinch away, even though he knows he probably should.

"This is it, isn't it?" she whispers.

He returns the embrace, wishing he could hold her tight enough to keep her there, with him, forever. "It's probably better this way," he says. "The Organization will have a harder time finding us if we split up."

"I don't want to," she weeps.

"Me neither," he admits.

Her tears are soaking a spot through the thick fabric of his cloak, but he doesn't pull away. He can't.

"This isn't goodbye," he promises, though he has absolutely nothing to back it up with. "I'll find you again."

"And then we'll really have to say goodbye," she says.

"You'll still be around," he points out.

Namine looks up at him. "It won't be me," she says sadly. "It'll be her. It'll be Kairi. And she was meant for Sora."

"Yeah," Riku says. "But you'll be in there, somewhere."

"Only in your memory," she whispers.

Even when she's crying, he still thinks she's beautiful.

Riku gazes out over the sea from his old perch on the paopu tree, letting the breeze wash over his pale face. It'll be a while before he regains his old island tan. Months under a hood and cloak will do that to a person.

He hears footsteps on the bridge and doesn't have to look to know that it's Kairi.

She always manages to find him when he's the most vulnerable. Maybe that's the bit of Namine in her. Maybe Namine just got it from Kairi. He'll never know.

"You okay?" she asks him.

He nods absentmindedly, thinking about sunsets and colors.

She clambers up next to him, smoothing the edge of her pink skirt. Riku looks at her then, at her blue-violet eyes, trying to imagine them framed by blonde, but the memory's fading now. Kairi smiles as if she knows what he's thinking.

Maybe she does.

"It's funny," she says softly. "I… I belong with Sora, I know that. But every once in a while, I find myself thinking about you."

He looks away awkwardly, wondering why she's telling him this.

"I think it's Namine," Kairi goes on. "She misses you."

"She's just a memory now," Riku says.

"But a nice one," she answers.

Riku nods again. The sunset is pretty here, but not as breathtaking as the ones in Twilight Town. He closes his eyes, and for a moment it's like she's there with him.

He looks back up into Kairi's eyes – Namine's eyes.

It's almost enough.