SOLACE
The soft chime of music that resonated around the otherwise silent room had a lachrymose quality to it, though to the ears of youth and anyone still blissfully unaware of the effects of tragedy, it would produce a more calming response to lull them to sleep. A light shone through the multicoloured plastic lampshade, creating a kaleidoscopic pattern that slowly revolved around the room, splaying across the walls and furniture. The gentle breeze that stirred the palm trees carried the scent of the nearby ocean through the open window, a pleasant smell that he had always associated with home, and subsequently with safety. The soporific melody was merely background noise to him, almost entirely drowned out by the volume of his thoughts.
His eyes, as rich and deep as the very water that surrounded the island he lived on, watched the miracle he held in his arms with a tranquillity that contradicted the internal turmoil he was fighting so hard to overcome. Like dynamite that had been hidden in the recesses of his mind, new worries were exploding within him, each of higher calibre than the next. Sora raised one hand slowly, his fingers half-curled and relaxed, and he trailed the back of his knuckles across the soft skin on the child's cheek. His lips quivered and eyebrows creased, and for risk of waking the baby, he returned his shivering hand back to its position beneath his other arm. As the prick of tears forced his eyes closed, he felt his stance in life begin to weaken under the weight of the world.
The natural darkness of night had long since settled over Destiny Islands, but despite his best efforts, Sora couldn't fall asleep. A cry from the room across the hallway had compelled him to abandon his attempts and roll out of bed, and he had been secretly grateful for the distraction; the echoing silence of the bedroom had provided him with nothing to muffle his thoughts with. Now, after feeding the infant two-thirds of a bottle of tepid milk, Sora was sitting in an armchair beside the window, quietly lamenting the loss both he and the child he held had suffered from. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked away the urge to cry, casting his jaded gaze over the baby's face; envying him for his composure and blissful ignorance. A tiny sound reached the brunet's ears, barely audible over the metallic cadence that filled the room.
The small boy stirred in his makeshift cradle, lips pursing as he flexed his fingers. Sora sniffed absently as he watched him, but the baby appeared to have already settled again. He raised his hand once more, but this time extended his fingers, tentatively stroking the velvety wisp of blonde hair on his newborn son's head. It felt like the base of a feather beneath his fingertips. His movements were slow and careful, almost hesitant, but the want to touch him was strong; it was all so surreal. Only days earlier, a phenomenon had occurred upon the birth of his child, upon the loss and gain of the very same person. Simultaneous to the deliverance of new life, tragedy struck. Perhaps it was how the universe remained in balance, or perhaps it was just misfortune on Sora's behalf, but some force greater than anything he could control had dealt him a card that simply didn't seem fair.
If anyone knew of the evils in the world, it was Sora. He'd fought monsters and mysterious entities alike, creatures of all shapes and sizes and levels of threat; many died at his hand in the name of all things pure and just. Beings and mistakes of nature that were unknown to the common townspeople, believed to be nothing more than legends of fairytales, had been destroyed in his efforts to help protect those rendered helpless by their ignorance. And as he embraced his child and repressed the sense of doleful confusion, Sora was only further reminded of his greatest duty to date. Having confronted the worst, he knew all the embodiments of darkness that he would have to shield his son from. He was too young to fully understand all the responsibilities that came with fatherhood, but he'd experienced enough in his lifetime to recognise the dangers that would inevitably threaten his son's life.
The very first of which had come within minutes of his birth.
His body trembled in the tropical weather, wracked by the feelings of failure and guilt that washed over him in bitter waves. Of all the pains and ruin that he would fight to shelter him from, Sora was unable to protect his child against heartache. Death was a power that outranked him as far as strength went, and he held a snowflake's chance in fires of Hell of winning any battle against it; once it gained the upper hand, once the final decision had been made, there was no room negotiation. It didn't matter whether or not he laid down his arms, because Death would reap its toll with little mercy for his futile efforts. Sora could destroy all of the Heartless in all of the worlds, and Death would still strike from behind in ways that he hadn't even considered. It cared not for the innocent who would consequently be affected, nor the beseeches screamed into empty night skies; tears that stained pillows and fragments of hearts that broke away would not suffice in any attempt to change the course of destiny. That golden light that he and his friends had always had faith in, the one that bound them together for all of eternity, was also the very reason they would be torn apart.
Then again, the baby that he so tenderly curled himself around, that he drew close to his chest and bowed his head towards in a protective arch, was possibly the best example of destiny to ever exist. He was a life thought to never be anything more than a reflection of another, but lucky – or perhaps stubborn – enough to prove otherwise. Like a light without a glow, or a flame without the heat, he was nothing, he was nobody; he was a heart without a beat. But by some stroke of chance, or by laws of nature that he would never understand, Sora could feel the tiny flutter of butterfly wings somewhere behind the blonde's ribs.
The gentle tune started to grow louder, ringing in his ears as his attention extended out to include his surroundings. Sora felt as if he were drowning in his responsibilities as a hero and an inexperienced father, almost equally alone in each respect. He rose to his feet, watching the infant's lips part as he yawned serenely. As a Keyblade Master, the fate of worlds quite literally depended on him, and his back almost ached under the pressure. As a single father, the life his child was deprived of the first time around rest in his arms, and the determination to make it everything he deserved made his head throb. Sora wondered if he could carry the weight of everything expected of him, and in the wake of Death's hand and the emptiness he felt … he only held a glimmer of hope – a dying ember just waiting to fade away.
The brunet was about to lean forward over the crib, carefully shifting the delicate body in his arms and feeling the absence of its warmth where it had been, but a brief glance down caused his gaze to snag on what he saw. A familiar, brilliant shade of blue captured his attention, and he paused in his movements to simply stare. He would never forget those eyes; it was how he'd recognised him to begin with. Roxas whimpered softly, wriggling in his father's hold solely because he could. A tiny hand pressed against the side of the Sora's arm, fingers scratching at him in a grabbing motion, and his eyes idly examined the colourful shapes dancing across the ceiling above. Sora's lips curled slightly – a modest smile that, in times of pain, could only be prompted by love.
Sora knew that the most prominent doubts in his mind were questions of how much he could withstand before he cracked and crumbled, and exactly what the point of even trying was. Sora knew that destiny was both for and against him in some sort of bittersweet cycle, and that it would give and take in much the same way that the ocean waves lapped at the shore. But Sora also knew that none of it mattered in the end, because when the day came that he could no longer stand alone, someone – somewhere – would piece together his broken spirit so that he could rise again and repeat the process. Physical and emotional agony aside, that was what he would do time and time again if that's what duty asked of him.
Because as a Keyblade Master, and as a single father, he had never had the choice to do otherwise.
Roxas gurgled loudly, contently, and Sora thought that maybe that was okay.
Maybe it'd be worth it.
A/N: Alright, so I should probably explain a little bit about this. First of all, I've always seemed to figure that Roxas' second life would be if and when Sora, as his Other, had a child. I can't seem to imagine any other way for him to detach from Sora, unless he died. Also, I know the level of angst is terribly high, but I thought Sora would probably feel like this at some point in his life, and this seemed like a good time. After all, if you managed to understand the story, you'd know that he's feeling rather broken at the moment due to a particularly unfortunate event. Anyway, I hope it made some sense.
(( The mother died in childbirth, if you're wondering, and she's just some made-up character. ))