Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts – hence the lack of pervyness in the actual game. I also don't own a Country, city, town, historic sight, landmark, etc. Anything mentioned in this fic isn't mine, but probably exists all the same.

Warnings: Shonen-ai (boys loving boys!), a bit of language, drinking, dodgies, hmm…hostels?

Spoilers: None – this is set completely in an Alternate Universe (which seems to bare remarkable resemblance to the real world). You have been pre-warned.

Author's Notes: See end of chapter!

Dedications: Anyone ever stayed in a hostel? This one's dedicated to you! Especially to the group I hosteled with in 05, you guys know who you are.

Uncommon Ground

Chapter 1.

Wow.

Just… wow.

It was really the only word he could use to describe the feeling achieved when standing in front of Buckingham Palace, thousands of miles away from home and all by himself.

His mental processes turned the word over again, just for good measure.

Wow.

He could say that he had always expected to be standing there, alone in a crowd, and with a giant backpack on his back and a camera dangling from the hand. But it would be a big, nasty lie.

The truth is that he had very nearly chickened out of getting on the plane the previous night. Not to say he hadn't had a good deal of certainty on the way to the airport. It was upon arriving at the airport that things took a nasty slide downhill. Terminals messed with the average person's head. They really did.

He had been so incredibly sure that there wouldn't be a problem leaving for Europe by himself. And it was that very fact alone that should have sent big, flashing warning signals off.

The reality is that if there really isn't a problem, then you shouldn't have to keep telling yourself that everything is going to be perfectly okay, over and over again.

He had bravado in plenty, not bravery. That is where there was a difference between him and his brother. His brother Sora would have jumped at the chance to go traveling all by himself. He probably wouldn't even be by himself after about five minutes on the airplane, making friends in unusual places was practically his gift. No doubt, if he had been the one on the flight instead of Roxas, he'd have made an army of friends to go touring with.

But Roxas wasn't Sora. And when he stood in line to check-in his bag at the airline he started having doubts.

'Doubts' doesn't even scratch the surface. 'Panic' would be a slightly more accurate term, but without sugar coating his internal struggles one would be more apt to call it a 'full blown freak-out'.

Standing in a crowded lineup, bag in one hand and passport in the other suddenly didn't seem like such a smart idea. It had seemed terrifying.

So he said to himself, 'Okay Roxas, it's just a little trip to Europe by yourself, what's the big deal? You'll get to stay in hostels with strangers, and eat weird food, and fight off the pickpockets, and maybe the plane will crash into the ocean…'

His inner motivational speaker always did kind of suck.

The only saving grace present was his brother. Sora was very happy that Roxas would be leaving for the summer, as it meant he would get the use of a much larger bedroom.

Truthfully, he was more than happy, he was ecstatic.

"Don't worry about it! You'll have so much fun!" He had told him, noticing the fact that Roxas had gone from a pasty white color, to an even pastier vampire color in the span of a few seconds.

"Think of all the cool people you'll meet! And you'll be able to 'find yourself' or whatever it is you keep talking about."

Yep, that was Sora. Forever the optimist, forever the happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and for good or for bad, forever his brother.

He shoved Roxas towards the counter, and after that he actually had to shove him through the security check.

When Roxas finally did get seated on the plane he was lucky enough to have a window seat facing the terminal he had just come from. And Sora was still there, waving frantically from the big viewing window, and holding up an improvised cardboard sign, wishing him a 'Bon Voyage'.

So Roxas put on a brave face, which really just looked the same as a constipated face, but without all the noises to go with it. And he flew off to Europe, just like that.

And now there he was, standing in front of the palace on a balmy Monday afternoon.

He hadn't actually had the opportunity to talk to any of the people there yet, not unless you included the guy at the airport who stamped the passports, but he really didn't count. Plus, he didn't even have a real British accent!

And the bus ride from Heathrow Airport to Buckingham Palace had happened in silence. Painful, pin-drop silence. Roxas had been happy to get the hell off the bus as soon as it stopped at the popular tourist destination. Too many people surrounded by that amount of quiet worried him, and the fresh air that hit him when he stepped out of the confined space and into the open was a much needed relief.

The sights and sounds of the roaming groups of tourists painted a picture perfect scene. One that would be ideal for the cover of a travel guide; the sort of guide that pledged budget travel for the adventure seeker and only delivered mid-priced hotels and pretty stately homes. That also happened to be the type of guidebook that Roxas swore by with an almost religious zeal.

In fact he was almost certain that gracing the cover of one of his favorites was a picture of the outside of Buckingham Palace. He dropped his backpack and rummaged in it until he found what he was looking for: 'England For The Uninitiated' it proclaimed. Followed up by sugary lines about 'cost effective travel' and 'easy maps to read'. Even Roxas could tell it was utter bullshit, but he still felt a sort of attachment to the guide.

Without it he would be lost. And without a directions for a hotel to boot.

But he had his guidebook. And more importantly he had an itinerary that would make most accountants go into near orgasmic throes. It was just that good.

It was better than good – it was great! Roxas had spent weeks coming up with it, holed away in his bedroom behind a computer screen. Blood, sweat and tears had gone into its making and Roxas affectionately thought of it as a traveler's thesis. The schedule was flawless. Not only did it have a daily agenda for Roxas, listing the 'where, when and how' he should be somewhere, but it even went so far as to have an hourly timeline.

'So I can see as much as possible in three weeks.' Roxas thought, as he put his guidebook away and pulled out the itinerary.

' After tour of Buckingham Palace, leave for Backpacker's Haven hostel by Taxi.' He read the bold print of the sheet he'd made for London, and set off to follow it word for word.

Several hours later he found out the truth about hostels. It is a bitter truth. The short of it is that if it seems too good to be true, then it probably is. In the case of the 'Backpacker's Haven', the price made it seem like a heaven, but it was really just a hell.

"It's a cesspit." Roxas mumbled under his breath, looking up at the derelict building fronting the busy road. Several levels of wood sided roach infestation loamed over his head, with one door on the main floor as the entrance. The door had the look of a secured entrance on a prison cell, not that he really had any idea what one would look like.

"You sure you'll be okay rooming here?"

Roxas turned to see the cabbie who dropped him off giving him a look. And to be honest, it worried the blond a little – it had something in common with the look Roxas once gave Sora at age six when the brunet said he had drank the blue liquid that was underneath the kitchen sink.

"Uh, yeah. I think I'll survive." Roxas answered in an even tone, although the cab driver's look of disbelief didn't waver in the slightest.

"Right kiddo, take it easy here. You'll see the odd dodgy from time to time, so it's best to just stay clear of 'im."

After Roxas handed him his payment, he drove off with a quick wave.

Dodgy?

What the hell did that mean?

He was about to brave the hostel and ask the front desk clerk just what the hell 'dodgy' was and whether or not it was something to be worried about it, but the 'dodgy' found Roxas instead.

Because, as he stood there in front of the craptastic building he failed to notice the car barreling towards him in reverse. If Roxas had dodged out of the way, then the whole lesson in 'dodgyness' could have been merely a theoretical one.

Since he didn't dodge from the reverse traffic, the only thought that had time to go through his mind was 'fuck'

Followed by a feeling of intense pain.

And as he looked up to the darkening sky, with the cold asphalt beneath his prone form and thoughts of death rolling through his mind Roxas saw 'dodgy'.

"Holy shit! Dude are you alright?" Said a blurring vision of red and spikes and black. Roxas had always hoped he'd be going to the other place, but all the red colors begged to differ in a most unsettling way.

"Satan?"

And then true darkness claimed him.

Chapter endnotes: I'll try and update this at least every week, so until that time reviews are always welcome! I love constructive criticism, or even just a few quick words to let me know what you thought.

As for the story itself: The idea hit me very suddenly one day, mid-step in fact. I knew I had to write it, and so far it seems to pretty much write itself – which is kickass. My obsession with Europe and travel has been with me for awhile, although I sadly haven't actually been across the pond yet. The little car 'incident' in this chapter was a plot device I've had in my head for awhile now. I never thought it would offer enough to write about in a one shot, so I was really happy to incorporate it into a multi-chaptered fic.