A/N: Hi, all! I've been working on this for quite some time, and it's going to be relatively long, so be prepared! Basically, it's a (probably) slightly AU account that just takes you through Naminé's entire journey throughout all the games, so. It focuses on the relationship between Naminé and Axel, although there will eventually be some mentions of Naminé/Roxas as well as Axel/Roxas (because you can't write a decent story without some mention of those two!).

No copyright infringement is intended, I don't own anything, etc.

She doesn't know how she got here, not really. Not that she remembers much of anything in the first place – even her name has been drifting in and out of her head – so she supposes that was sort of to be expected. The fact that there were four rather uninviting figures looming over her speaking in hushed whispers amongst themselves certainly didn't help to alleviate the fright, and in an effort to get away, she found herself scooting hastily to the left of them, but found herself caught in her position by a firm hand.

"Now, now, it would do no good for you to try and scamper off," a smooth male voice says, not releasing the grip he had on her upper arm. She peers up at him wordlessly, her brow furrowing as she tries to see through the haze of black underneath his hood. The other three are much the same, and she can't help but have the feeling she was headed to her death – the ominous picture of the four of them wasn't exactly inviting, to put it delicately.

"What… who are you?" she says softly, coming out more as a squeak than anything else. The man who held her arm simply laughs; a cold, distant laugh that all but makes her skin crawl.

"It's better that you don't ask questions," is all he offers in return, crouching down to her eye level for the briefest moment before suddenly rising to his feet, jerking her up with him. "This simply won't do," he comments lazily as he glances her up and down, releasing his hand from her arm only to push her towards the smallest hooded figure.

"What the hell am I supposed to do about it, Luxford?" the voice hisses, and Naminé finds herself surprised to hear the voice was quite obviously feminine.

"You'll have to bathe her," a second male voice quips, crossing his arms over his chest languidly. "She looks absolutely disgusting."

The woman scoffs at the idea, pushing the young girl away from her as though she's been burnt. "Just because we've got the same parts, Marluxia, doesn't mean I should have to clean up the brat. Let Axel do it – I'm sure he hasn't seen a woman naked in months. He'd jump at the chance, I'm sure, wouldn't you?" she mocks, turning to the fourth figure that had, up until this moment, remained silent and as off the side as he could manage.

"You know, Larxene," he says slowly, leaning against the wall to his left, "that it's not like you're particularly indispensable. You're the lowest of the low, don't you remember? It'd be wise to listen to your superiors," he finishes, putting a certain emphasis on the last word that visibly caused Larxene to cringe.

"If we're basing this off of ranks, shouldn't your little boy toy be the one to handle this?" she asks offhandedly, and Naminé feels certain the woman is smirking behind her hood when Axel stiffens. "That's what I thought."

Naminé finds herself caught off guard when Axel's hand reaches out to yank at her upper arm, scrambling to keep up with his long strides as he makes his way out of the room they were previously in. She opens her mouth to say something to him, but as she glances up at him and sees that she is still unable to see his face, she thinks better of it and clamps her mouth tightly shut. Her eyes wander around the surroundings as he pulls her through a few different corridors, and after a few moments, it seems to register that the color was gone from the entire space.

Everywhere the pair turned is white marble floors, white walls, white wall hangings, white chairs, white vases. White everything. It was as though the color had simply been sucked away, and she finds it oddly unsettling. The feeling of his hand releasing her jolts her out of her thoughts, and she stares up at him in confusion as he reaches out to open a large door in front of them.

He walks into the room wordlessly, glancing back only for a second to make sure she is obediently following behind him. He opens a smaller door just a few feet away, holding it open for her, though she stays rooted to her spot outside of it.

"It's just a bathroom," he tells her. "It's not like there's someone waiting to murder you in there." She doesn't seem entirely eager to trust him, however, and continues to glance up at him skeptically. "Look, do you want to keep smelling like someone dunked you in a pile of shit, or do you want to clean yourself up?"

She is about to answer when he suddenly pushes his hood back, and she finds herself immediately entranced by the peridot eyes she finds staring at her. He looks uncomfortable at the sudden change in her demeanor, shifting on the balls of his feet as she flushes, quietly ducking into the bathroom. The door shuts with a soft click, and he sighs.

"Hey," he calls from the other room, an almost curious edge to his voice, "what's your name, kid?"

Naminé finishes setting her ragged dress delicately over the toilet before answering, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's Naminé," she replies, so softly he can barely catch it.

"Well, look, Naminé, don't drown or anything," he comments, and she's surprised by how out of the blue it seems, "because it's not like I'm going to save you."

For some reason, the sentence makes her giggle as she slips into the bathtub, the hot water immediately soothing her aching joints. She lets out a contented sigh as she slides further under the water, holding herself completely under for a few seconds, her eyes squeezed shut as little bubbles leave her slowly opening mouth. She hasn't felt this relaxed in – well, she isn't exactly sure, but she knows it was a long time ago.

Axel seems to finally get bored with her soak, however, and as she's resurfacing after dunking herself under for the umpteenth time, she can hear him shifting around.

"Hey, kid," he calls through the door, rubbing at the back of his neck casually. "You almost done? I've got things to do."

"You don't have to watch me, you know. It's not as though I can escape," she replies slowly, though she was already lifting herself up out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel as she spoke.

"Of course you can," he says with a dry laugh, leaning himself against the wall as he faces the doorframe. "You just don't know how."

She frowns as she starts drying herself off, wrinkling her nose in irritation at the thought of it. She hadn't been at this place for long, but already she knew she wasn't going to be going somewhere else anytime soon. She was – what had those people been whispering about? – vital to their plans, or something along those lines. Either way, she was trapped, and she knew that. She wasn't an idiot. Not particularly smart, maybe, but not an idiot.

It only took her a few minutes to completely towel herself off, and she emerges from the bathroom with her pale hair all stuck to her face as it dries. "Do I… do I have a room?" she asks meekly, tilting her head to the side as she glances up at him.

There was something in his face that told her she could trust him – that he wasn't going to hurt her, at least not intentionally. But then there was that instinct in her that told her not to trust strangers, no matter how nice they might seem to begin with.

"Sure, of course you do," he tells her with a shrug, starting to walk back through the door they came in, once again simply assuming she knew to follow him. He takes them down a few more hallways before leading her into a much larger room than she was expecting, though it was once again – to her complete disappointment, and she thinks for a moment that he can sense it – completely devoid of any color other than white.

There is a small couch near the middle of the room, and a window with a small chair and table by it at the east side. There is a small nook in the other side that, upon further investigation, she finds had a small dresser and a bed, which she sits down on delicately, her small legs dangling far above the ground.

"It's very nice," she says pleasantly, continuing to glance around. It earns her a scoff and a smirk from Axel, who shakes his head at her.

"You don't have to lie to me, you know, it's not like I'm going to take offense," he says with another smirk, but she doesn't reply. She simply smiles back at him, contentedly swinging her legs back and forth on her bed.

He falters, then, unsure of what he's supposed to do next. He assumed there wasn't much else left for her to do that day – surely Marluxia or someone else would be along in the morning to explain to her what the hell she was supposed to be doing, and he's about to say something to her before he notices her rummaging through the dresser, extracting a large sketchbook and a box of crayons with a look of utter excitement on her face.

She makes her way to the small table near the window, completely oblivious to the fact that Axel is still hovering near the door, and he watches her bend over the book methodically with a shake of his head. He stays like that for a few more minutes; half amused at the fact that she still doesn't seem to notice him, he has to stifle a yawn before he realizes how late it must be.

He thinks about saying goodbye to her, but the idea seemed foreign and unnecessary; not to mention it might just frighten her what with how intent she was on whatever the hell it was she was drawing. He turns to go, opening the door as quietly as he can, convincing himself not to spare a backwards glance at the small pale girl in the big pale room.