A/N: I'm sorry that this took so long, and isn't as lengthy as I had hoped. There's no excuse for that, but the delay was based upon my parents and me going to Savannah, Georgia for a car convention. (Yes, it was every bit as hot as it sounds.) This chapter is mostly a bridge to chapter four, and I'll have that up as soon as possible.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, or any of these characters. I also do not own The Dark Tower series, from which this down draw some (noticeable) inspiration.
The roar of gunfire tore through the bar, a scream in the early afternoon sun, though no bullets shattered the walls or glass. In the street, a man laughed as another screamed, as people within the saloon stared at each other with wide, panicked eyes that darted from patron to patron to wait staff. Riku alone stood from his seat, moved toward the window they'd watched him from the night before. His motions remained fluid despite the mounting anxiety, his thoughts empty, focused only one one thing.
"The old man," he said, turned to look at the people in the saloon. "Does anyone have a weapon?"
The room, now sprinkled with terrified people no better than frightened animals, was silent, save for the muffled screams from outside, where a man with silver in his black hair stood above a dying man, laughing still. No one spoke, just continued staring at the boy none of them knew, as he stood with calm poise, though terror sang in the street.
"Does anyone have a god damn weapon?" He shouted, shook Roxas at least from his silence.
"Behind the bar," he said, voice numb as he blurred into motion, jumped over the bar, held up a long barreled shot gun.
"Right," Riku said, as another shot elicited a shriek from Oolette. "Anyone else?"
"N-no," Oolette said, her voice shaking as badly as her body. "People here don't carry weapons."
"Okay," Riku said, eyes flicking over the empty space, calculating through his muted panic. "Roxas, come here. Everyone else, just, get down."
"Anybody home?" The voice drifting in from outside, and Riku knew they were out of time, even as Roxas came to him, gave him the gun, and the others in the saloon scrambled to hide.
"Be careful," Riku whispered, stood with his back flat against the wall, the door between them. "If he comes in facing me, scream, get his attention, I'll put him down."
Roxas nodded, but there was no more consultation before the man walked in, his face turned toward Riku, a smile stretching his lips. For a moment, the room and time froze, and then came the shooting.
Pain flared in Riku's side, as the man spun and he missed with the shotgun, forgetting in that instant that it could hit Roxas. The man's hand worked at his revolver, pushed back the hammer to cock it, to shoot the blond like he had Riku. The moment before it could happen, though the scene was little more than a frantic blur of motion, Riku slammed the butt of the shot gun into the man's head, blood and hair sloughing off and dripping to the floor, clinging to the wood of the gun.
The man fell in a crumpling heap, and Roxas was on him, the man's revolver giant in his small hands, which trembled as he held the barrel of the gun in the man's face.
"Wait," Riku said, his voice drawn as he knelt, wincing as he moved, to be closer to the still grinning man.
"Well played," the man said, coughed as Roxas dug a knee into his side.
"Who are you?" Riku asked.
"The only one you won't see coming," he said, glared up at the two of them with the clouded eyes of a dying man.
"What do you mean?"
"You'll be watching your back from now on, won't you?" He closed his eyes, then stared up at the ceiling, his gaze shifting from focus. "As if I thought you'd actually win... Guess he was right about you."
"Who? Who was right about me?" Riku had to resist the urge to shake the fading man, knew that if he did he'd kill him with the motion, that he couldn't injure the man further if he wanted answers.
"Ask him," the man said, blood pooling around his head, foaming at the corner of his mouth, the consciousness slipping fast, though he pointed with a limp wrist at Roxas. "He knows..."
Riku looked to Roxas, whose blue eyes were narrowed on the man, furious disbelief beneath their surface.
"Roxas..."
"You're lying," Roxas whispered, grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him, slamming his head against the splintering floor as he did. "You're lying!"
"Stop it!" Riku screamed, took hold of the man's gun as Roxas dropped it, with one hand, and touched Roxas's shoulder with the other. "You're dying. Tell me who you are and I'll finish the job, make the pain stop, at least."
The man's eyes, filled with tears, locked on Riku's, his breath coming in gasps as he coughed again, a thin trickle of pinkish blood dripping down his chin.
"Ask him..." He whispered, smiled again. "Ask number thirteen..."
He closed his eyes, but Riku didn't give him the chance to die peacefully, grabbed the gun from the floor beside him instead, shot the man in the face in a moment of confused rage. He stared at the mutilated corpse in front of him, his body shaking as he began to realize that he'd been shot.
"Riku," Roxas smiled, moved toward Riku, arms outstretched, expression concerned. "Don't move... You're bleeding."
Riku shook his head, tried to stand, only to fall to the floor with a painful sigh. Blood welled under his hand, pressed hard to his side. He had no way to know whether the shot was bad or not, knew only that the pain circled his being, constricted his breathing as he felt the warmth fleeing from him.
"Oolette!" Roxas screamed. "Get the first aid kit!"
The shout broke through the shocked silence, brought a ripple of motion, a cacophony of disarray as people struggled to escape the gory scene. They darted around Riku, even as Roxas fought to protect him, keep them from stepping on him, hurting him more.
"Don't touch me," Riku whispered, took an unsteady breath as he fought against the pain that made all pains before it seem pale.
"Don't be like that," Roxas said, ripped Riku's shirt near the wound, winced when he saw it, gurgling blood. "You trusted me ten minutes ago, so don't start hating me for something I don't even remember."
Riku nodded, rational though he was beginning to shiver as he lost blood, his visual slipping into fuzzy waves.
"Did the bullet pass through?" Oolette asked, knelt beside the boys, her pale face strained.
"I think so," Roxas whispered, tilted Riku onto his side, cringing as Riku moaned. "Oh god. No... No it didn't."
Oolette took a breath, steeled herself. "Go get me some hot water, strong whiskey, and a set of tongs from the kitchen."
"Do you know what you're doing?" Roxas asked.
"No," Oolette said. "But what choice is there? Your magician killed the doctor."
"He did not!" Roxas all but shouted. "He didn't shoot Diz, this bastard did."
"He set the madness on him," she said, and her expression was clear, furious, blame aimed at Roxas as well as the departed mage. "Go get the things I need. I don't want a third person to die today."
Roxas hesitated for a moment, then turned and ran for the kitchen.
"You really got yourself into trouble for us," she said to Riku, her eyes scanning the wound. "It doesn't look too bad, though... It's far over on your side... I don't know how the bullet didn't pass through..."
Riku looked at her, tears welling his his eyes, but he nodded, felt the shock receding as he focused on breathing, on not succumbing to the pain. It wasn't working, but he knew it would only get worse before it got better.
"Doesn't look like you'll be leaving tonight, though," she tried to smile, the expression hollow.
"Just fix me up," Riku whispered, as Roxas skidded to a stop beside them.
Oolette nodded, thanked Roxas for the supplies. "Give him some of the whiskey."
Roxas, who had grabbed two bottles without thinking, began to help Riku to drink as much of the fiery liquid as he could, the bottle tilted back to slide the drink down his throat.
"I'm sorry," Roxas whispered, the fluid spilling down Riku's chin as he fought to keep drinking, though he hoped it would dull what came next.
His chest was warm, heavy, when Oolette doused the wound with the other bottle of whiskey, and for a moment there was nothing, only surprise and sluggish fear, and then came the pain. It hit him like a knife, sliced through his skin, made it feel as if every muscle in his body were being peeled fom his body, sinew by sinew.
It got worse.
Oolette was as quick as she could be, digging the bullet out as Roxas struggled to hold Riku in place as he tried in vain to struggle away, as he screamed. It was eternity to Riku, ripping, exploring pain, and it didn't end when Oolette extracted the bullet, sweat on his brow.
"Almost done," she whispered, her hands shaking as she took a curved needle and black thread from the kit.
"Can you finish?" Roxas whispered. "He's shaking pretty bad..."
"I know," she whispered. "Now shush and let me concentrate."
Roas nodded, watched as Oolette, with shaking hands, closed the wound, scooted back and away from Riku a moment later, her eyes fixed on the blood on her hands, the crumpled bullet that never should have been trapped.
"You're okay," Roxas whispered to Riku, who nodded, unable to speak through the pain. "It's over... You're okay..."
Riku closed his eyes, the alcohol warming him, but bringing no comfort, and just before the darkness took him, he saw a flash of blue, heard a distant voice, the crash of waves against sand.
"Riku!"
xxx xxx
"Xigbar has expired, you're certain?"
"I am."
The image before the young man nodded, a hood over his head, though his was white. "Unfortunate, though not entirely unforeseen."
"It was actually completely predictable," the seated man said, flipping his hood back to let the desert moon shine down onto blood red hair. "I told you not to underestimate him, boss."
"Don't start," the figure said, his image wavering as a breath of wind rippled through it. "This is a serious matter."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes, leaned back against a rock. "I'm keeping it a secret, aren't I?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not, regardless, I don't want to lose any more members. Do you understand, Axel?"
"Loud and clear, boss," he snapped a salute, let his hand flutter to his hip a moment later. "I just hope they catch up soon, I'm sick of this place."
"Oh? I thought you'd enjoy it, dry as it is."
"Haha, you're hilarious, a sex joke, I mean, really," green eyes focused on the image he controlled. "Are we done here?"
"Do you remember the next step in the plan?"
"Like I'd forget it," Axel said. "Talk to you on the other side."
The man started to speak, but Axel was waving, the volume muted from the spell before he smudged his foot across the circle he'd drawn in the sand. It had only been for show, an outward display of the intricate forces he was working, but he liked it, liked the image it painted.
He leaned back, stretched against the rock at his back. It wasn't comfortable, nothing in the damn desert was, not the gritty sand that clogged his boots, not the wind that cut across the plains, burned his eyes, tore at his hair. He hated the feel of the sun on him, the sweat he couldn't escape in his billowing leather coat, but found better than the inevitable sunburn.
"I am so over this," he said, glared at the array of fire wood, which lit into a furious blaze as he did, warmed his chilled face from the frigid nighttime wind.
"Hope you feel better soon, kid," he whispered. "You've got a long way to go, and the road only gets bumpier."
He smiled, called fire to dance in his palm, kissing his skin but never burning it, coloring it red with a tickling touch that made him coo.
"I'd hate for you not to be at your best," he exhaled, spread the first to embers, watched it drift on the wind.
Ending: The next chapter will be... What the next chapter will be. I give up on pretending like I can foresee these things. The story will do what the story will do, and I'm just here to breathe life into it. I'd love it if you would join me on this ride. As always, comments are adored, as are recommendations to friends.