Island Nights I

A/N: And here we go with this sequel-ish thing for Island Days.

DISCLAIMER: American Highschool student that has no job. I own nothing.

When Sora opened his eyes, the first thoughts that went through his mind were: 'I'm in a bed, not at Merlin's, and where the heck are Donald and Goofy?' Groggy blue eyes traveled around the small room, taking in the toys hanging from the ceiling, blue walls bathed in early morning light, and the clothes scattered on the floor. He blinked a couple of times until his sleep fogged mind processed everything and pulled the pieces together. He was in his bed. His house. He was home.

Grinning, the brunette bounced out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and raced for the bathroom. Today was going to be great.

Naomi started when she heard banging from upstairs. She smiled realizing that Sora was up and moving. It was awfully early for him to be up. Two years ago –

She cringed. That's right, she thought. It had been two years since she had her son home. In many ways, he hadn't changed a bit (which she was eternally grateful for. There was more than one way to lose a person). But, in just as many ways her baby boy had changed beyond recognition. He was still energetic and cheerful, but his movements were more contained. Never more than needed. He was cautious, always alert for the first sign of danger. It broke her heart to see him like that – like a trained warrior home from war.

"Hey, mom!"

Naomi turned from the stove as her son's voice floated across the kitchen. As she fully faced him she let out a gasp. Sora had come down without a shirt on. The shirt, along with his gloves, jacket, and necklace, were clenched in his right hand, leaving the tapestry of scars on his chest visible to the world. Naomi's eyes zeroed in on one scar though. The one right over her son's heart. Her hands flew to her a face and her eyes filled with tears as she said, "Oh, Sora…"

Sora looked confused until he followed her line of sight. He made a quite little 'oh'.

"So, um…" Unconsciously, Sora raised his left hand to rub at the back of his head. The gesture was so Sora that Naomi almost burst into tears. How could someone hate her precious little boy enough to stab him in the heart?

Sora's hand dropped and his expression changed from sheepish to solemn. He walked to the table, set down his clothes, turned to his mother and said, "I guess we have to talk."

Sora still hadn't put his shirt back on. He had a perfectly good reason, really.

…

Okay, it was Roxas' fault. He thought it would help Sora's mother come to terms with…well everything if she kept seeing the scars. Sora understood the logic behind that too. It was just that she wouldn't. Stop. Staring.

"Um…mom?"

Her eyes didn't leave his chest, "Yes?"

"Could you please stop staring?"

Her eyes flicked to his and to Sora's immense relief, stayed there.

"Sora…I want to know everything. Don't leave out a single detail.

"Okay."

And with that, the story began.