Hi guys! It's not like me to leave an AN, so listen up! This is the SAME story as the one I deleted. It's going the same place, I just didn't like the original way I chose to portray it. I was trying a new style, and it had an unfortunate crash ending. I didn't like the way it sounded when I read it to myself. So, same story, back to my original style, try it on again, and don't forget to REVIEW, cuz I'm REALLY starved for them.

JMO

Chapter one:
Shadows on the dresser, Shadows in his soul

Shadows danced in the mirror as Riku drew his hand away from the candle on the dresser, shaking the match to extinguish the flame. He tried to ignore their erratic movements, focusing instead on the warm glow emanating from the candle. It seemed so small, so fragile. He shuddered, thinking how easily two fingers could snuff it, darkening his room and leaving him to helpless to resist the whims of the blackness he knew still lingered in his heart.

A knock at the entrance to his chamber drew him from his grim musings. He looked up as Sora thrust his head through the door. Riku motioned for him to come in, discarding the charred match in a small wastebasket by the nightstand. He sat a circular table, the kind usually found in hotel rooms. Though Riku offered him a chair, Sora did not join him, leaving the spare seat unoccupied.

"How're you feeling?" Sora asked. Riku had been ill off and on ever since their return to the Destiny Islands. When Sora had announced his plans to revisit some of the now-disconnected worlds (with the help of a Gummi Ship sent along with a summons from the King) Riku had been bedridden with a terrible fever. Sora had tried to leave the ill boy behind, but Riku refused to allow his friend to depart alone, and Kairi was world-bound by her day classes. On Kairi's request, Sora had waited for Riku's fever to break, and then the boys left the islands together.

"Better," Riku lied. "I wish this place had electricity. I could use a hot shower."

"Sorry," Sora laughed, "but it's just for tonight. It was really good of Belle and the Prince to let us stay here. Don't worry, we'll leave tomorrow and we should make it the rest of the way to Radiant Gardens." He paused to allow Riku a comment, but Riku had nothing to say. "Are you sure you feel alright, Riku?"

Riku knew that Sora wouldn't believe him, but he nodded anyway.

"Alright," Sora sounded resigned. He made for the door. "Try to get some rest, Ok? The Gummi Ship…"

"I know," Riku said, "Happy thoughts, right? Don't worry." Riku smiled as convincingly as he could manage, but with his sickly pale skin and flushed cheeks, it wasn't very effective, he knew. Still, Sora nodded and made for the door.

Before he had completely closed it behind him, Riku heard the soft, kind voice of their hostess questioning, "How is he feeling? Is there anything we can do for him?" Sora's answer, however, was lost in the click of the bolt as Riku locked himself in.

How embarrassing. He had forced this unplanned visit upon Sora and these people by accident. Apparently, he and Gummi Ships were less than compatible. Why in all the worlds couldn't he just get over himself and be happy, he wondered. What was so hard about it, really?

It's because of the darkness, a voice from inside informed him. How can anyone be happy when the power of darkness is consuming them from within? You're afraid, Riku! And rightly so; it is very wise of you to be concerned.

No! No, the darkness held no power over him now. He had freed himself from its influence. There was nothing for him to fear; the shadows could no longer reach him.

Then why do you shiver? It's not cold. Your illness isn't the flu. Your past hasn't simply disappeared. You're still Riku, and the darkness lusts for you.

These thoughts were unsettling, but he was too weak to dwell on them. He dipped a cloth in the washbasin beside the bed, draping it over his forehead as he collapsed on the goose-down mattress, drawing the canopy back to keep it from casting a shadow over the comforter.

He glanced at the dresser, watching as wax slowly dripped down the sides of the crème colored candle, pooling in the small tray which rested beneath it. That candle was tall—it would last many hours, he knew, but not until daylight. What would he do when its liberating glow dimmed? He clenched his jaw shut as the familiar wave of nausea swept over him.

He did not with to be left alone at the mercy of the shadows.