Disclamer: I dont own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters associated with it!

Authors Note: I had this very weird dream the other day involving myself traveling to a circus. Axel and Roxas were there. I havent written in a while, so I thought I'd expand on the idea and write it down... it turned into this. A huge thanks to Sylistra-The-Scholar, my lovely beta and friend, who edited this for me. I hope you like it. :D

Dear Sora,

It's wonderful where I am. I've never seen a place even close to this—the lights and sounds are like nothing you've ever known. It reminds me of when we were kids, the circus we went to, and we pretended we were acrobats for weeks. You broke your arm. We'll be outside of Twilight Town on the fifth. Find us. We can live together again, you can stay here. I miss you. Find me.

Roxas

OoooooOOOOoooooOOOOoooooOOOOooooOOOOooooOOOO

This was obviously the place that the letter described. It looked nothing less than a normal circus, to Sora. He walked slowly into the spinning and stifling crowd, looking for a map, a flyer, anything to give him information on where to find his brother.

There seemed to be no advertisement of this place, but the crowds were immense, thick, and happy. They watched in wonder at the tricks performed by the people in the tents, who took their money happily. Sora stopped to watch a tall man with short, blond hair perform an astonishing card trick, where the cards seemed to float in mid air around the man's head, then collapse neatly into a pile. The audience gasped and clapped appropriately, and Sora walked on.

The next booth was shrouded in darkness, and the anticipation was thick in the air. The people looked slightly frustrated, waiting, and as Sora got a look at the act behind the counter, he realized the cause. The sign said 'Illusionist', however the boy was anything but. He sat and turned the pages of his immense novel slowly, looking irritated at the shear amount of people surrounding him. The crowd eventually dispersed and the boy was left alone to his novel, but Sora stayed.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The boy was silent.

"Sir? I need to know--"

"Yes?"

Sora gasped and jerked backwards. The boy who was reading was still there, but another, identical boy was suddenly beside him, looking at Sora with piercing grey eyes. Sora looked back and forth between the two, startled, and the man simply waved his fingers and the apparition was gone. He sat in his illusion's place.

His eyes were blurry, that's all. He rubbed them. The world slid back into focus.

"I need to know… I need to know what time the show starts. The circus, I mean."

The man smiled a small, but polite, smile at him, and he ran his hand through his grey-blue hair. "Starts at seven on the dot. Can't miss it. The lot empties out—just go with the flow."

Sora nodded and handed the man a dollar, which he waved away.

"How about you try some refreshments instead? They are delicious."

The way he said this, for some reason, made Sora want to never eat again. It was not a malicious statement, but it seemed a lie somehow, a fallacy. His mind whispered to his body, 'Find him, find Roxas, leave, this isn't right, find him…' until he couldn't take it. He turned and quickly scurried away from the illusionist.

But how to find him? He was not sure what his brother did here. The letter was vague.

The only thing he could do was search.

The air was thick with the smell of sweat and popcorn. He looked up at the dark, cloudy sky, and tiny pricks of light shone through at him like diamonds. It was cold, even surrounded by all the people, who pushed and shoved through the golden glow of the carnival, laughing and screaming. Sounds were melded here, fused together as he walked to the big top, a hint of a strange melody, the familiar tune of a circus performer, the strum of a guitar hoping to earn a few dollars in the crowd.

The voices themselves were astonishing here, with the range of tone and temperature of the words. There was no anger here, just the joyous, albeit insane, laughter of the circus goers. The wind blew again as a tall man shoved pass him, smelling of the earth and grass. It was chilling, and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself. The lights of the striped tent were calling to him, and he granted their wish; perhaps this was the reason he was here, after all. To learn. To see. To believe.

He gained a seat three rows back and waited for the show to begin.

The circus was an impeccable madness. The audience watched in awe as the performers danced and flipped through the air, a drum roll parting the sea of movement down the middle, to show a lone man with dark skin and golden eyes literally floating above the ground. His high hat and glowing cane proclaimed him to be the ringleader.

The audience was rapt.

He held out his hands, and the performers stilled.

"Welcome, guests, to the Never Was! I'm glad you found your way all right."

The audience tittered, as if sharing a private joke.

"For our first act, we shall have—" He was cut off suddenly by a barrage of explosions and smoke above his head, and the performers sprang into action, flipping and cart wheeling out of the way, and the music kicked up, a quick and high sound, with the drums beating quickly, and oh how the audience cheered.

The circus progressed in a blur of amazement and flashing lights, making Sora dizzy but also happy, as if there were something in the air, a drug, a wonder, that was spreading through the crowd.

There was a man who could walk the tightrope upside down, and a woman who could throw knives with precision. She made shapes around a mans head, who was strapped to a spinning wheel screaming and laughing all at once.

There was a lion, Simba they called him, who battled against a man with long and vibrant blue hair. He would crack the whip and snarl, flip, turn, and jump out of the way of the fierce beasts claws, until the audience did not know who to cheer for anymore.

There was a feminine man, with broad shoulders and rose colored hair, who flipped and spun with astonishing talent on a vine suspended from the ceiling, stunning the audience with his impeccable acrobatics, while another, who Sora swore was the young illusionist with his hair slicked back, tricked the audience into thinking the man was going to fall to his death at any time.

All the while Sora searched for his brother. The air was making him sick.

The audience had quieted down.

There was a man in the middle of the clearing, standing, silent. He was dressed in extravagant shades of scarlet and gold, wearing a mask that looked like flames, and his hair was an explosion of red spikes. In his hands were two rings, and he began to juggle them. The audience was confused, disappointed. Apprehensive.

Both rings flew up in the air, and slid open with a shink, revealing sharp, nasty spikes on each one. He caught them with ease, and the audience applauded. He spun them, around and around in the air, and the audience soon lost interest.

They caught fire with a loud pop. He danced, twirled, laughed, and juggled the circles of flaming spikes, until suddenly, there was another on the floor, dressed in shining blue that reminded Sora of the night sky with the piercing stars of before. He wore a mask of silver, and it twisted into a mess of blonde spikes on his head, showing only his mouth and jaw. He carried two large objects that looked like swords.

There was no sound as they looked at each other.

The fire struck the night, and they fought. It looked like a dance, with such grace they attacked each other, juggling their weapons between them, and the music wound itself through the tent. An eerie tune at first, giving way to the drums and violins as the battle grew more intense.

Sora watched, breathed, and lived the battle.

The audience leaned in as the competitors grew closer and closer together, the music picking up to an almost unrelenting pace, with one high pitch of a violin as the red head leaned near, oh so near, to the blonde's mouth. The audience was silent. You could only hear the violin and the beating of the warrior's hearts.

The flame turned from the night and blew out, like a candle in the wind.

The audience erupted.

Sora went behind the big top, through the crowds, through the smells and the laughter, the awed laughing of the people, in search of his brother.

It wasn't hard to pick out his brother among the performers, even with the clothes and the startling blonde hair. It was his face too, after all, even hidden by the mask of silver he could tell that.

The blonde looked nice on him, Sora thought. The clothes suited him as well. Roxas was the same brother he remembered, with one small difference. His eyes held a different quality, one that Sora could see even from the stands. It was a longing, some sort of knowledge, mixed with fear and excitement. Sora winced—he had seen that look on their mothers face time and time again when she looked at other men besides his father.

Roxas had grown up while he was gone.

Roxas had left him.

This did not matter, Sora knew. He had to find his brother. To see him.

"And what are you doing back here? Wanting an autograph? Or wanting to join?" The voice was high and cruel, and it came from the blonde knife thrower. She stared at him with disdain, her face coated with golden glitter from her outfit.

"I'm looking for someone. My brother." His voice was not as strong as he hoped.

"Your brother? He isn't here," she sneered. "We have no family," she added, but it seemed as if she was thinking, far away in that moment.

"Well, he is, I saw him. If you'll excuse me." Sora pushed passed the woman, into a tent of performers, searching for a mess of blonde and large blue eyes.

His eyes caught green ones instead. They looked surprised.

"Who are you?" he drifted closer, cloaked in flame from head to toe, without the mask from before.

"I'm Sora. You know my brother, don't you? Roxas? Where is he?" he watched as the red head mouthed his name, staring at him with odd, odd eyes.

"Roxas? He has a brother?"

"Yes, yes, but where is he?" Sora had begun to get impatient, and it mixed with his growing panic. This place was weird, unlike anything he had ever seen. There were wonders here. He thought of his brothers' letter. Find me.

"You can't leave, you know. We don't have family here." His tone struck a cord in Sora, it tinged him with terror, he panicked, and his breath picked up.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I want to see my brother now, and I know he's here! You know him!" His voice was getting higher, panicking.

Someone grabbed his arm from the side. The blue haired lion warrior.

Sora twisted from his grasp and ran through the tent, ducking beneath the sparkles and props of the circus, until he burst through the back of the tent, into the night air. It was colder than before, and he ran, his legs pumping in rhythm with his heart, his throat raw with the air. His lungs felt as if he swallowed fire.

"Sora?"

He stopped quickly, tripping himself and crashing to the ground.

"Sora? You there? Sor?"

Roxas.

Sora stopped breathing. What was this place?

"Sora, its me. Roxas. Where are you?"

He was in a thicket of trees, in the dark. Hiding. Hiding from his brother.

"Sora!"

This was wrong. He knew it.

"Sora, where are you?! Please!"

"Roxas. I'm here. Over here."

He saw his brothers face up close for the first time in three years, and tears sprung to his eyes. He was still in performance clothes, flowing and waving in the night wind. Otherworldly.

They stared at each other, taking in their differences through blurry eyes. Roxas had on a dark eye shadow. His eyes were like crystals. Sora sniffed and ran a hand through his unruly spikes, wanting to say, "Hey, Rox. How ya been?" or something, to make everything seem normal even though he knew it wasn't.

"I didn't know." His voice broke, so similar to Sora's own, but entirely his. "I didn't know what they'd do. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you to come. I thought you could stay."

Sora hurt. He bled on the inside. It was a quick wound, and even faster to heal up. Nothing but a scar now.

"You left me, you know. You left me alone."

"You weren't alone, you had mom. I'm sorry, Sor, I'm sorry."

"What is this place?" Sora whispered, and the wind picked it up and carried it away.

"It's the NeverWas, Sora. I thought you could join. I was wrong. You," he sobbed, quickly, and recovered his voice, "You have to go. I don't know what they'll do to you. Go."

Sora was startled. "I can't leave! I just got you back, Rox, you're here!"

There was a snap of a twig in the dark, and a glimmer of fabric.

"Sora, listen to me, you have to go!"

"Why can't you come with me?" Sora sobbed, grabbing onto Roxas's hand and jerking.

"Because I'm part of it. It's part of me. And we have no family."

His words echoed through the trees as Sora ran.

His feet pounded the ground as he wove through the trees, his ears picking up the slightest of sounds. Far behind, he heard a yelp of laughter, the thud of their footfalls, the snapping of sticks as they raced their way to him. His every breath burned with exhaustion.

He could taste his own fear.

He leapt over logs, wove through brambles, the spindly sticks tangling into his hair, scratching his skin. He hopped a barbed wire fence, ran through a field, and onto a hill.

Still they followed, an ever elusive crowd of warriors, dripping through the shadows, crowing with their joy in the chase.

Sora began to entertain thoughts of just laying there, waiting for them. Wait till they find me, he thought, I'll fight them then. Just rest now.

But he couldn't, because there they were, so near, weaving through the field like cats, brightly colored and shining, singing with the sheer joy of a battle close at hand.

He knew then he was no match for them.

He sat on the hill and waited for them.

The laughter that pierced the air was eerie and high pitched, but he could not see who it came from. They melted into the shadows surrounding the hill, circling him, like hyenas, never becoming visible. He saw a flash of red, the man Roxas loves oh him, a glimmer of gold, woman woman evil woman, and a shimmer of the night sky.

Roxas.

He had fallen next to him in a split second, his gown of night billowing around him, eyes fierce and full of tears. He turned to Sora and handed him a sword, one of light, twisting in beautiful metals with deadly points, and they braced themselves, side by side.

Sounds of jeering filled the air, accompanied by a chorus of hissing and malicious laughter.

"Traitor!"

The word ran through the tall grass like a chant, and they stepped out, one by one, in their harsh colors and vicious faces, anger shining in their eyes.

The flame saw the night. There was no anger. Horror, betrayal, and sadness shone through as he stumbled past the others, pulling out his rings of spikes as if he were a puppet being controlled by a master.

The fight started a dance, one they were familiar with, spinning and cutting at the air, and Sora watched, entranced, as it happened.

He could not watch forever, though, because they had descended upon him, clawing and fighting, sudden laughter cutting through the cold night air. Their weapons sliced at his skin, causing him to bleed, sting, cry, but still he fought, thrusting and blocking. He was not like his brother; no training, no practice; just the need for survival taking hold, allowing him with the little grace he needed to wield the sword.

A scream strained through the air, an odd note, reminiscent of the violin of old.

Sora watched as his brother was cut down from behind, murdered, dropping to the ground. Sora watched his own heart rip through his chest as he fell, watched his childhood whither and burn. With a snap, his soul broke apart, shattering and dissolving into the air, leaving him half the person he was. It was a wonder no one heard it. It's a miracle no one saw.

It did not matter who he hurt in order to get to his brother's body, and they drew back, fearful, wondering what their actions were now, now that one brother was dead, one survived, their orders accomplished. They have no family here.

He reached the body, though he was not the only mourner. The flame dropped tears of crystal onto the body of the night, cleaning the blood from his mouth with the red cloth of his sleeve. The dark liquid soaked into the night sky fabric, unnoticeable. He could have been sleeping, if not for the wound in his back.

Sora sat on the ground, not sure of what to do next.

"You cant leave, now. You're doomed here. We all are." His words were soft, lips barely moving.

"Why cant we just run?"

"No escape." He planted a kiss on Roxas's forehead.

"None?" it was a sigh, tearful, mournful.

"Death. Fighting. Or join." The words were resigned, decision already made. The flame was tired, Sora could tell. Ready for freedom. Death.

"What's your name?"

"Axel."

"Axel, then. Help me move him."

The moved the body to a clear spot, undisturbed, and dark. They folded his hands and Axel laid a coin over each closed eye. Sora did not question this custom, it made no difference, and they left him there.

Sora felt nothing. No longer fearful for his life, he could taste nothing, feel nothing. He saw the dark sky clearly, darker than before, almost dawn now. He smelt the icy wind, the dirt of the ground, and the trees. They were coming back now, he could hear. There was no laughter now, no giggles. Just the thump of their feet and the snaps of twigs, as they made their way to the clearing.

Their leader was with them.

There was no speech, no big rally before the battle began. They slashed and fought, not like dancers, but like mad men, who were not afraid to die, but were already half dead.

It was no surprise when, at last, they fell, their souls rising up into the night sky, shimmering like stars, becoming whole once again.

By far the longest oneshot I've ever written. Please, please, please tell me what you think! I worked very hard on this. I would love to hear your input. :D Plus, you'll get a cookie and or shirtless man of your choice if you do. REVIEW!