"If Sora was brave enough to go save Kairi, I should at least be as brave."

"But Ven—" Terra felt at a loss for words. Was he seriously going to risk everything—the way Sora had—to bring back Vanitas? Mean, despicable, downright evil Vanitas, who had done so much to hurt them and drive them apart? It boggled his mind to even consider it. "He's not Kairi," he said, feeling dumb at his poor choice of words.

"Guess not," Ven conceded with a sad smirk, "but he never got much of a chance to be anything other than what Xehanort intended. Sora gave me my second chance. He deserves someone giving him one too."

"You don't even know if you can bring him back."

"I won't know until I try, Terra."

"And you're willing to pay the price for it?" Terra couldn't help a hint of anger from seeping into his voice. They still hadn't found any clue how to save Sora; why would Ven risk that fate himself?

Ven seemed unfazed by that, though. "I am. I really thought this through, Terra. It's—"

"Don't go," Terra finally said, pleading. "Don't go because I love you."

Half of a frown formed on Ven's brow. "I love you too, Terra, but—"

"No, you don't get it." Terra had never meant to admit to this out loud, but it was too late to back out now. "I love you. And I don't want you to go."

For a silent moment, Ven's lips parted and he stared at Terra, and Terra thought there would be some kind of realization, some kind of change in his heart. Then Ven's face focused in an obstinate mask, and he shook his head. "I—why would you say that right now?"

"Because it's true. Because I want you to stay." Terra's voice cracked mid-sentence. He could read Ven's tone easily enough. This was not going his way.

"I can't deal with that right now, Terra. This is—why would you even put this on me right now? I'm trying to do the right thing. You may not agree, but you can't ask me not to do it because of something that selfish."

Ven summoned his Keyblade, called forth a portal, and just like that, he was gone.

A year passed, a whole year during which Terra looked for every clue of Ven's whereabouts, and found nothing. It was like he'd vanished off the face of the World, like Sora; but unlike Sora, they couldn't even find so much as a hint of his location. Terra couldn't help but feel resentment that at least Riku could see Sora in his dreams; he didn't seem to share such a connection with Ventus. Whatever it meant, whatever it proved, it made Terra seethe.

Terra never gave up looking, though. Even when Aqua told him to take some rest, to trust in Ven, he kept up his search. Even when he collapsed from exhaustion sometimes, he didn't allow himself rest.

But nothing came.

Until, that is, one morning. He'd come back home, to the Land of Departure, the sight of the golden halls filling him with hurt at the thought that Ven wasn't here. It was just meant to be a quick pit stop, in and out, but Aqua had decided an intervention was in order and magicked him to sleep.

As soon as Terra woke up, woozy and confused, he barreled out of his room, trying to summon his Keyblade to leave as quickly as possible, but his body wasn't quite caught up with the anger in his heart yet, so the weapon failed to materialize.

He kept walking, as if that would help, or perhaps looking for Aqua so he could yell at her that how dare she, this is just like when—

Terra froze as he reached the great hall. A figure was sitting on the central throne, slumped as if in slumber. A figure that was all too familiar, clad in black and red and with a mass of black hair hiding his face from Terra's view. Terra had never seen him without his mask off, but he'd heard his friends talk about him. Vanitas was easy to recognize with just a glance.

Slowly, Terra regained his senses, and started walking towards the thrones, instantly on his guard. His Keyblade appeared in his hands when he was just a few steps away from Vanitas, but he still showed no sign of stirring. From up close, his face peaceful with sleep, it was hard not to think of him as fragile and vulnerable—two things Terra had never thought would apply to the boy in the mask he'd chased across the worlds all those years ago. For the first time, Terra was truly aware of how small Vanitas was compared to him.

Seeing him asleep reminded Terra of when Ventus had first come to the Land of Departure, which only sent a jolt of pain through his heart. They were so alike—how had he not noticed this before?

Kneeling in front of Vanitas, Terra dismissed his Keyblade and reached out to him. He looked sound asleep, his breathing regular and calm, and Terra could feel a pulse when he put a hand around Vanitas's wrist. Was he completely okay, or was he an empty shell as Ventus had once been? There was no way to know until he woke up.

"Terra? What are you—" Terra looked back to find Aqua, standing across the great hall. Her gaze moved past him, focusing on Vanitas, and her eyes briefly narrowed with anger. "Is that—" Yet as she came closer, her features softened, first with confusion, then with worry. She crouched beside Terra, examining Vanitas and letting out a brief sigh. Then, she turned to Terra. "You know what this means, don't you?"

It took Terra's brain a moment to catch up and connect the pieces, though when he did, he felt like he always knew. "Yeah," he said. "Ven was successful."

And if he wasn't back, it meant he had paid the price.

They moved Vanitas to Ven's old room, if only because it was too strange having him in the great hall. Part of Terra wanted to drop him there and leave immediately, resume his search for Ventus and maybe put as much distance between himself and Vanitas as possible; but another part knew that Vanitas was the best way he could get answers. So he stayed at the Land of Departure, checking in on Vanitas every so often and keeping Aqua company the rest of the time.

Nothing happened at first. On the sixth night after Vanitas' sudden appearance, Terra had gotten too antsy to even sleep, so he left his room, following the hallways to Ven's room.

Vanitas still lay asleep, and Terra felt the urge to go to the bookshelf. There was a book there, full of fairy tales passed down the line of Keyblade Masters; when Ven had first come here and been asleep for so long, Terra had read them to him. It had seemed like something to do at the time, especially after Master Eraqus told him how Ven had likely never heard these under Xehanort's tutelage. A way to connect to him, and a way to bring him into the culture Terra had bathed in for most of his life.

Terra settled on the same chair he had, all those years ago, and started reading. The tale was familiar enough to him that he almost didn't need the book, but there was still something soothing about doing it this way. Besides, it allowed him to keep his eyes off of Vanitas's face.

He finished a first tale, and there was no reaction. "I can't believe I'm about to say this," Terra said, "but please wake up. I just—I need to know what happened. I need closure." There was no response, and Terra lowered his eyes, his vision going blurry with sudden tears. "I need—" He sighed. "I need to know his sacrifice wasn't in vain. That he didn't just bring you back like this."

Vanitas remained asleep.

Terra returned his attention to the book, and started the next tale.

At some point Terra must have fallen asleep in his chair, because the next thing he knew, it was morning and he woke up with a jolt at the sound of a voice.

"Terra?"

There was distrust there, but none of the bile Terra remembered from their previous encounters. His vision focused on Vanitas as he sat up on Ven's bed, and Vanitas met his eyes, angling his body away from Terra—but his look was one of caution. He reminded Terra of a cat approached by a stranger.

Against his better judgment, Terra couldn't help but smile. "You're awake," he said.

"I am," Vanitas replied, perfectly still.

"We were worried. Aqua and I. We thought—it's been seven days now."

Vanitas narrowed his eyes at Terra, and raised a hand in front of his face, looking at it with curiosity. The sight of his black-and-red suit didn't seem to satisfy him, because he hopped to his feet and went to the mirror hanging by Ven's door, staring at himself. "I look like me," he finally said.

Terra stood up, frowning at him in the mirror. "Who else would you look like?"

"Like—someone you and Aqua would actually get worried about."

"You think we wouldn't worry about you?"

"I know it. We were enemies. And your friend sacrificed himself to bring me back."

Terra's throat tightened at the mention of Ventus. This had to mean that Vanitas knew something about what happened to him. It took everything he had not to immediately press him with questions—instead he tried to recall how he'd felt the night before. "You're right," he said simply. "So we'd be pretty bad friends if we didn't look out for you for his sake, huh?"

Vanitas scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him. "You don't have to."

"That's not how that works," Terra said. "We do the right thing because it's the right thing to do."

"What? To help a villain?"

"To give you a second chance." The words brought back memories of his last conversation with Ventus, and Terra had to fight back tears. He wasn't ready to let Vanitas see him cry. Strangely enough, by the time he felt confident enough to look at Vanitas again, Vanitas himself was looking away instead, lost in thought. Terra stepped forward, slowly reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. Vanitas tensed at the contact, but he didn't pull away. "You deserve as much."

Vanitas met his eyes in the mirror again, a flash of uncertainty crossing his gaze. "I doubt that," he said, "but I'll take it anyway."

Terra managed a smile. "It's the first step to earning it, so I'm told." He certainly was no stranger to second chances himself, after all his own darkness had led him to.

Aqua was more circumspect around Vanitas when Terra brought him down with him for breakfast, and it took Terra a moment to realize that the two had much more history—little of it good. Still, she welcomed him at their table, sliding a platter of small cakes she'd baked that morning—or perhaps overnight. Terra had long suspected she slept as poorly as he did, in spite of her attempts to act like a mom to him.

It was tense and awkward, but at least the morning went by without incident. Aqua decided that Vanitas could stay here as long as he wanted—but if he did, he'd be expected to participate in the usual tasks of life at the Land of Departure. There were chores to be done, and Aqua insisted to make him join in the training and teaching of Keyblade Wielders, along with Kairi, Lea and the others.

Terra didn't imagine Vanitas was thrilled at being made an apprentice again when is power was undeniable, but he couldn't picture Aqua letting him mentor anyone just yet. Still, Vanitas agreed, albeit reluctantly, looking at himself self-consciously as he said the words.

"We should ask Master Yen Sid to provide you other clothes," Terra suggested. "If—you want that, at least." The bodysuit looked to him like just another mark of Xehanort's control over Vanitas's life, but he supposed he couldn't guess how Vanitas himself felt about it.

To his surprise, however, Vanitas gave an enthusiastic nod at that idea. "Yeah. I'd like that a lot, actually."

That evening, the two of them came back from the Mysterious Tower, with Vanitas clad in an outfit that was almost a mirror of Ventus's usual clothes—the blacks and whites flipped, with a touch of red where Ven wore green. He hadn't chosen it; according to the Three Good Fairies, the clothes took whatever form suited the heart they were made for. Vanitas had listened to that explanation while he was gaping at his own reflection, wonder and shock plain on his features.

While Terra's heart felt a jolt of grief every time he looked at Vanitas clad in these clothes, they looked right on him. When Vanitas caught Terra smiling at him in the mirror, however, he immediately snapped. "What're you looking at?" And yet, Terra caught the way his cheeks reddened.

Aqua's reaction to Vanitas's new look was a surprisingly bright smile, though her eyes glinted with tears. "Welcome home, Vanitas," she said simply; Terra wondered if Vanitas knew the meaning behind those words.

She spent the rest of the evening showing Vanitas around the castle and filling him in on how life usually worked here. Vanitas took it all surprisingly well in stride, drinking her words without complaint.

"And this is the kitchen," Aqua said as they reached the place. It was a mess, laden with signs that it had been mostly used as Aqua's stress-baking spot for the better part of a year now. "I'm the one who uses it the most, but if you ever want to make yourself something—"

"I'd make it for the rest of you, too," Vanitas simply said, as if it was obvious. Then he caught himself, turning an embarrassed look to Aqua and Terra. "I mean—if I knew how to cook. Doubt I could make anything that wouldn't kill you, right now."

Terra couldn't help a chuckle. "You're a better cook than me, then. Maybe you can teach me?"

To his surprise, Vanitas laughed at his attempted joke—which caught Aqua by surprise too, judging by the look on her face. "Sure, as long as you help me clean this up," Vanitas said, oblivious to her reaction.

It was Aqua's turn to laugh. "That's my bad," she said. "Guess that means I'll have to help you too, then."

Vanitas looked at her, then at Terra again, and Terra realized this was the first time he saw him with a genuine smile.

"I'll leave again soon," Terra told Aqua the next day.

"You're leaving? But—why? And where?"

"Same place I've been for the past year." Terra crossed his arms, casting her a defiant look. "Just because he's here, doesn't mean my search is over. On the contrary."

"Terra, you shouldn't do this on your own. Everyone pitched in to find Sora, and we still haven't—"

"That's why I have to do it on my own. Because we haven't found Sora."

Aqua flinched at his words. "Do you really think you can do better on your own? Terra, don't you think if I thought there was even a chance that it could help, I wouldn't drop everything to look for Ven too?"

"You seem content enough replacing him," he spat. As soon as he saw Aqua's face, he realized his anger had made him go too far, but before he could apologize, a soft noise alerted him of a presence behind him.

He spun on his heels, and only saw the dash of black and red as Vanitas ran out of the kitchen.

"Go find him," Aqua said, softly. "We'll talk later."

Terra wasn't sure how she knew that that had been Terra's first impulse, but he nodded to her, thankful.

Catching up was easy: Vanitas still barely knew the castle's layout, and Terra figured out he'd go to the most familiar place. Namely, Ventus's room—which was now his room, Terra guessed. How Terra knew he'd want to go someplace familiar for comfort, he wasn't sure.

But even this strange, new, incomprehensible insight into Vanitas's mind didn't prepare him for what he found inside. Vanitas's back was to the door, but it couldn't hide his shaking as he sobbed quietly.

"Vanitas," Terra said softly, stepping forward. He tried putting a hand on Vanitas's shoulder, but Vanitas shrugged him off. In the process, though, he half-turned towards Terra, letting him see the tears running down his face.

Vanitas turned away immediately. "You talk a big game, but it figures. A second chance? I'll never be him, and that's all you really care about. I never had a single chance at that."

"I'm sorry you heard that," Terra said. "I didn't mean it. I was angry. It just got away from me."

"I know something about anger," Vanitas said with a scoff. "And pain. And disappointment."

"How about regret?" His question got Vanitas to look back at him once more. "You're right; I miss Ventus. I spent a year trying to get him back. But I shouldn't take that out on you—or Aqua, for that matter." He sighed. "Ven did what he did to bring you here, but I don't want you to think that's the only reason I'm happy that you are here."

"You're not happy I'm here. Don't bother pretending."

"But I am, though." Terra sighed. "I spent so long focused on Ven I didn't even think about it, but you and I have a lot in common too. I was lost in the darkness once too, remember?"

Vanitas scoffed. "Please. At best you stumbled into it. You weren't born into it."

"Yeah. You're right. And I had friends to pull me out, too. You didn't." He paused. "Until now."

The wet look Vanitas cast on him shifted, in a way Terra found familiar, even though he couldn't quite name it.

Every morning, he promised himself today was the last day. Vanitas was adapting to his new life, Aqua was learning to manage the students and adjusting to the new routine. Today, he would say she didn't need his help anymore and he was going to find Ventus.

But then something would happen. Vanitas would laugh as Kairi beat him in sparring. He would catch Lea's frisbee reflexively as the trainees were playing, and instead of stepping away to find solitude elsewhere, he would join them. He would make his first batch of cakes that didn't mysteriously burn in the oven, and not only were they a success, they were exactly the kind of nut-filled goodness Terra preferred—and had been denying himself for so long.

Or sometimes it would just be a look, a short exchange of words, a silent moment between the two of them in the great hall, or even just bumping into each other in a hallway. And suddenly, Terra had to stay one more day.

It took a mission to get him to leave, in the end. A freak outburst of Heartless in the Castle of Dreams that he volunteered to go deal with. And even so, he got rid of the creatures as fast as he could, in a hurry to return home. He didn't even remember the last time he'd wanted to come home.

Someone, however, had other plans in mind. Just as he was about to summon a portal to the Lanes Between, shimmering lights appeared next to him, taking the form of the Fairy Godmother.

"It has been a long time, child," she said, looking at Terra with kind concern. "It's good to see you again."

"I—likewise, I suppose."

The fairy made a noncommittal sound as she examined him. "Oh, dear. How do all of you Keyblade wielders always carry so much sadness within you? Between you and Riku, there is enough to go around to give a dozen fairy godmothers a headache."

It's because we lost so much. He held back from giving her that answer; instead, he squirmed under her gaze, trying to think of a polite way to leave. "I can manage," he said, curt. "You really should focus on helping Riku." He vaguely remembered Aqua telling him that the Godmother had provided her expertise to help find Sora; still, he didn't feel confident she could help him too. He didn't have any dreams about Ven to report.

The Fairy Godmother didn't heed his dismissal. "It's not just grief, though, is it? No, it's something more developed than that."

"What do you m—"

"Grief is a complicated thing, Terra. It changes and grows, and we change and grow with it."

"And as an expert on dreams, you know this because—"

"Why, I've been around for a long time, young man." Her tone was as kind as usual, but her words still made Terra regret his show of skepticism. The answer seemed obvious. "That sadness within you—your grief has changed. The pain of missing someone is now the pain of moving on."

"I'm not—" Terra shook his head. "I'm never giving up on Ven. Ever."

"It's not giving up to move on. Sometimes, it's the only way to look forward. And whatever it is you're looking for now, keep in mind that forward is the only place you can ever find it. None of us can go back, after all." She chuckled. "Well, not without some strong magic and reckless handling of our own hearts, anyway. But I wouldn't recommend it."

Terra blinked. He wasn't entirely sure what the fairy's point was, yet there was still a part of him that felt like a fog had cleared. "I—thank you?" was the best he could manage.

"Oh, I'm holding you up! Go on, then, Terra," she said, waving him off. "But keep it in mind. If you don't heal your own wounds, you won't be much help to anyone."

The Fairy Godmother's words rang in his mind for days after their encounter. About moving on, and looking forward. It still sounded like cryptic nonsense, but he knew better than to dismiss such a powerful magic user. And besides, her words felt like they resonated within him, even if he couldn't articulate why.

"Careful," a sarcastic voice interrupted his musing, "you might get lost in thought for real."

Terra turned around and saw Vanitas coming up to him. He'd come to the great hall, staring at the empty thrones as he tried to think; yet it was no surprise that Vanitas knew to find him here. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I know how empty your head really is," Vanitas retorted. "I was once able to manipulate you without ever even talking to you, remember?" He immediately winced at his own words. "Or—don't, actually."

Terra only chuckled. "It's okay. We're past that." He sighed. "I forgive you, actually. I should have said so earlier, but I'm saying it now." Then, with a grin, "But only if you take back what you said about me being stupid."

Vanitas shrugged. "Maybe if you prove to me that you aren't." There it was again—in his eye, a glint that looked familiar as he looked at Terra. A glint that, strangely, reminded him of the Fairy Godmother's sparkles.

That was when it all clicked in Terra's mind. It sounded implausible, impossible even. Yet it was the only way it made sense. "How about this?" he asked, defiant. "I think you're in love with me."

Petrified, Vanitas opened his mouth as if to retort something, but nothing came out. Terra grinned at that, triumphant.

"Ven used to look at me like that. And even though he never got to tell me, I think he—" He sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter."

"I don't feel what Ventus used to feel."

"I know that. I think that's why it took me all this time to figure it out—or, to believe it, really. But your mannerisms are the same, sometimes, so I'm pretty sure I'm right anyway."

Silence stretched out between them, Vanitas keeping his eyes very still as he stared at some point behind Terra.

"And you know what?" he continued. "I think I'm in love with you too."

Those words caught Vanitas's attention. Blinking, he turned his gaze to Terra, and for the first time, Terra saw in them something that looked a lot like hope. "You—"

"Am I right?" Terra asked. "About how you feel for me?"

"Does it matter? I'm not Ventus. And I'm not a replacement."

"Yeah. It matters. Because you're you, and you're worthy of a second chance, and you're worthy of love." He shook his head. "I'm not trying to replace Ventus. But I can't stop living—can't stop feeling—because he's gone. And you're here." He raised an eyebrow, and asked, again, "So? Am I right?"

In lieu of an answer, Terra found himself pushed back, pressed down into the nearest throne as Vanitas pressed his lips against Terra, hungry and desperate, heated and terrified all at once. Terra's knees buckled, and he let himself fall back on the throne; as soon as he was seated, Vanitas climbed on top of him, straddling his lap as he kissed him deeper.

Both Vanitas's hands gripped at the back of the throne above Terra's head, as if he was trying not to touch Terra any more than necessary. His reluctance made Terra cautious as he put a hand to Vanitas's back, but the way Vanitas eagerly arched under his touch urged him on.

It was only a kiss, but after so long drowning in grief, it felt like a storm unleashed inside Terra's heart. When they parted, panting for breath, all he could do was stare into Vanitas's golden eyes.

"You'd better not be lying," Vanitas said, almost threateningly. "If this is just about Ventus—"

Terra placed a finger across his lips, silencing him. "I'm not giving up on saving Ventus. But I'm not giving up on you, either. I love you. It's time I allow myself to feel that."

Vanitas shivered against his finger, but after a still moment, he nodded. "Then I'll allow myself to feel this, too," he said, before kissing Terra again.