Setting: Daffodil Room
Time: Day 007, after the Machi kidnapping incident, about the same time as Roxas's beatdown.
Summary: Namine thinks over what's just happened.
Naminé was alone.
She was not entirely certain why she was alone. Rayne had only gone into the bathroom, and yet for some reason she had not come out.
Naminé might otherwise have found this perplexing, and even now some part of her did, but at the moment there were other things pressing at her mind.
She sniffled a little, pressing her face into the soft pillow.
It had not been long since the incident with Machi. While some people would not have wanted to be alone at a time like this, she actually valued the moment to herself – although Rayne’s presence would have made her feel safer, it also would have made it more difficult to think. And besides… Naminé was very, very used to recovering alone. When the only people around were the ones that had caused the latest trouble in the first place, it felt much better to have the chance to rest by oneself.
If you could really call it rest.
Right now, it didn’t seem like the appropriate term. Naminé pressed her face harder into the pillow, arching her shoulders and pulling herself just a little further towards the top of the bed.
There was something on her mind. It wasn’t Machi, as one might expect – at least, not entirely. Yes, the feel of the cold metal against her skin and that rotting flesh pressed against hers lingered horribly, making her scrub at her neck with her own ineffective palms, and yes, she wondered if the reasons he gave were the real reasons, and she wondered why he’d called Rayne a murderer, and she wondered why, why, why couldn’t she get the Organization out of her head, now that he’d reminded her of them? But mostly, mostly she wondered why… Roxas?
What had he told Machi? And why? She hadn’t realized what, or who, Machi meant, at first – but after a little time, it became painfully, painfully obvious. But the question still remained -- why?
Did he hate her?
Did he know that it was her that had rearranged his memories in the first place? Did she annoy him? Did he still work for the Organization? Did he just… did he just not like her?
She’d tried, oh, she’d tried – she’d tried so hard to help him. She’d tried so hard to make it easy for him, to help him like no one else had helped her, back ‘home’, and… and….
Did he really want her dead?
Part of her mind told her that this was ridiculous. Part of her mind told her that she was overreacting, that it could have all been a mistake – but that was also the part that conceded the possibility that maybe he HAD meant to do it. That maybe he harbored some kind of resentment, that maybe he’d always despised her – and she just hadn’t been able to see it.
He had been rather disbelieving, when he first came to Dollsy. She would have been too, her mind was quick to admit, but, still. That kind of thing lingered. It was difficult, trying to help someone who didn’t understand what you were trying to—
She needed to stop thinking about it. She needed to stop thinking about him. All it was doing was making her chest ache, and that… that wasn’t what she needed, right now. She pulled the pillow out from under her head and moved it to cover her head instead, pressing it down around her to block out the world as her legs pulled in towards her chest.
Maybe it was just because she was still upset from earlier, or maybe it was because she was tired from the ordeal, or maybe it was because of what she was trying so hard not to think about, but she was having a hard time trying not to sob.