Um, so understand this: while what happens to Namine in this chapter is quite bad, it is not so horrible that this fic would warrent a M rating were I to go into graphic detail. I'm not that mean to Namine. And while she may seem kinda wimpy right now; trust me, her moment is coming.

Disclaimer: yeah. no.

Much Ado About Nothing

Violation

As predicted, Xemnas was still in his going-back-to-the-drawing-board-to-recalculate-the-big-master-plan-for-total-universal-domination moods. Apparently, whatever had messed up had messed up bad. Saix had attempted to get an idea of how long the Superior would remain locked up, but he only lasted a minute before being shouted out by a very frustrated Xemnas. It seemed they wouldn't be seeing their leader for a while. Xemnas expected that his minions would spend this extra time doing something constructive.

Obviously he didn't know them very well.

Roxas had taken Xigbar's advice and taken advantage of Xemnas' distraction to go see Naminé. However, he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask her out quite yet.

He just hoped she wasn't still mad. He rehearsed what he would say to her as he traveled the winding white corridors to her room. At times he was frustrated by the distance to her isolated room, but on days like this, where he needed all the time he could get, the length was welcome.

As Roxas made his way down the hallways, his senses were suddenly assaulted by the unmistakable scent of cherry blossoms. Marluxia must have been nearby. A person could smell that fruit cake from halfway across the castle. Roxas paused. What would Marluxia be doing in this part of the Castle? Naminé's room was the only thing down this direction. Most of the other rooms were just for storage.

How was Roxas going to explain what he was doing down here?

The Graceful Assassin rounded a corner up ahead, and he started ever so slightly at the sight of Roxas.

"Number XIII," He acknowledged, nodding. Roxas opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn't remember the man's number. He'd learned it was best to respond with the other member's number when called by his own. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember; was is XI, or X? Oh well. He'd always been considered a brat anyway.

"Marluxia," Roxas replied.

The man's mouth twitched slightly at Roxas's impudence. Being the youngest member, Roxas was generally expected to acknowledge the other members with some level of authority, being the lowest among their ranks. (Never mind that without his keyblade they were toast.) It was as if they were in high school; they were the graduating seniors, and he was just the lowly freshman cowering in their shadow. Nevertheless, Marluxia passed on down the hallway, and out of sight. Roxas didn't trust him one bit. There was something about him; behind all his girlish flowery-ness, lay a cruel, sick man; Roxas was sure of it.

Upon reaching Naminé's door, Roxas was surprised to hear something like sobbing emanating through the white door. Roxas knocked lightly on the door.

"Nami? Hey, it's Roxas. You there?" He called. There was no reply. Roxas slowly opened the door and peeked in.

Naminé's sketches were scattered everywhere. She herself was curled up on the corner of her bed. She was sketching fiercely at her sketchbook, her hand moving in rapid, angry strokes. She ripped the page from her book and tossed it away. Roxas noticed her bed was surrounded by indiscernible scribbles in red crayon.

"Naminé?" he called softly. She didn't seem to notice.

"Naminé? You okay?" Naminé looked up this time, and her eyes grew wide.

"Roxas?!" She quickly hopped up and shakily began gathering the scattered sketches. There was something wrong. Roxas rushed forward.

"Naminé, what's wrong?"

Roxas came to her, and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She avoided his eyes and shrugged off his hand.

"Naminé," Roxas asked, truly concerned now. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She continued to pick up the drawings which had been strewn all over her room. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Roxas followed her, unrelenting. Something was definitely wrong, and Roxas intended to find out what. "Naminé, you're lying. Something's wrong; what happened?"

"Nothing." Her voice was shaking. She was shaking.

Roxas grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "Naminé, you're not yourself, something's happened. You're worrying me. I know something's wrong! What is it?"

She refused to meet his eyes. "Roxas, it's nothing! No big deal!" She tried to pull away, but Roxas tightened his grip on her arm.

"Naminé, listen, I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong!" Roxas was desperate now. He hated to see her in such pain, and he had to know the cause of it. If someone hurt her…

"Nothing's wrong!" She shouted, tears streaming down her pale face.

"Naminé!" Roxas shouted back. She cringed and then shrieked as she wrenched her arm from his grasp.

As she did so, her blonde hair swung off her shoulder to hang behind her back. She stumbled a few feet away from Roxas, who was frozen in place.

"Naminé…" he said softly, eyes locked on her shoulder.

Several deep gashes, some of them looking more like puncture wounds, were dug into the flesh of her shoulder. They were blue and black and red with drying blood. Naminé stood shaking before him for a moment before she went back to picking up her papers.

"Naminé…what happened?" Roxas could barely bring his voice above a whisper. This was worse than he thought.

"I…was getting something…glass off a shelf…a high shelf… and it fell and broke… on my shoulder." she murmured, her breathing still not steady.

A wound from anything made of glass wouldn't do this. Roxas had been sent crashing through enough windows to know. Horror filled his mind as Roxas thought of the man he'd seen on his way to Naminé's room.

"…Does this have something to do with Marluxia?" He asked quietly.

She couldn't have paused for more than a second, but it was all the confirmation Roxas needed. He rushed to her and gently took her face in his hands.

"Naminé, you have to tell me what happened! If he hurt you-"

She pulled away. "It's nothing, really. No big deal…"

"Naminé…"

"It could have been worse. I mean, it just, don't worry. I fought him…really, don't worry…"

"Naminé…"

"…After all, it isn't like he…" she inhaled sharply. "You shouldn't worry…It's not that important."

"Naminé." Roxas's voice was gentle yet firm. Naminé raised her tearstained eyes to meet his.

"It is important. What happened?"

Naminé sighed and took a deep breath.

XIII

"Roxas!" Naminé sprinted down the hall after him. "Roxas! You don't have to do this!"

"I'll kill him!" Roxas couldn't remember ever feeling quite so livid. Yes, feeling.

Nothing could have convinced Roxas that the pure unadulterated fury pulsing through his non-being was just an illusion.

How dare he! How dare he!

Roxas tore down the white hallways in pursuit of Marluxia, Naminé on his heels.

"Roxas!" She shouted, pleading with him to calm down.

His anger giving him strength, Roxas found his enemy in no time.

Marluxia turned to discover why he was hearing such a racket, and found a very ticked-off keyblade master, who had just pulled out two very lethal looking keyblades.

Sparks flew from Oblivion and Lionheart as Roxas dragged them across the white marble floor towards Marluxia, who only just in time pulled his scythe up to block the assault from Oblivion. Naminé shrieked as the Graceful Assassin swung at Roxas with the large blade of his scythe. Roxas wasn't called a Keyblade Master for nothing. One blade caught the scythe and the other came crashing into Marluxia's side, sending him stumbling sideways. A twist of the wrist wrenched the scythe out of Marluxia's grasp for a moment at least. Regaining his balance, Marluxia grabbed his weapon, which Roxas's blade had flung aside, and attempted again to behead the smaller nobody.

The length of Marluxia's weapon was usually an advantage, because of the extra surface area to deter blows, but now it was the only thing between him and death (or at least fading away). Roxas's duel keyblades came at him one after the other, and there was no stopping that fury. (AN:1)

Flashes of light, clangs of metal clashing, and the next thing Marluxia was aware of was being pinned to the white wall with a keyblade on either side of his neck.

His scythe seemed to be under Roxas's foot. Marluxia couldn't turn his head to check.

About that time Marluxia began to worry.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, glaring at the fourteen-year-old boy who had just bested him.

" 'I was getting something glass off a high shelf and it fell and cut my shoulder.' I'm curious, did Naminé come up with that herself, or is that the excuse you told her to give to keep her quiet?" Roxas growled through clenched teeth.

"Why, Roxas, I'm sure I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Marluxia calmly replied. Big mistake. Oblivion's blade touched the skin of his neck.

"Wrong Answer. I might have believed it if there wasn't a rose thorn imbedded into her shoulder! I may not have a heart, but I've got a conscience enough not to let you hurt Naminé and get away with it." The keyblade master seethed.

Marluxia struggled to keep control. He couldn't show any signs of guilt in the matter. But his face paled anyway.

Roxas glared and leaned closer, growling so low that Naminé wouldn't be able to hear them.

"If you dare come near her again, I swear, I will slice you to ribbons so thin you'll make your flower petals look thick."

"So much for your conscience," Marluxia growled back.

"You deserve it." Roxas pressed Oblivion's blade even closer to Marluxia's skin, this time actually drawing black blood. "And if I so much as suspect that you're threatening her to keep her quiet, well, you get the idea. I suppose human remains would make great fertilizer for your garden."

Marluxia needed time to rethink this. He wanted revenge, but now was not the time to take it. A black portal appeared in the wall behind him, and he began to back into it.

"Mark my words, boy. You'll wish you didn't mess with me."

Roxas sneered. "Hmph. You'll wish you hadn't given me a reason to."

XIII

Marluxia paced back and forth in his garden.

This ruined so much; that little brat had ruined everything.

But how to get revenge?

Bringing the matter to the superior's attention was out of the question. It was quite unlikely that Roxas would end up in trouble; he was too important to the Organization. More importantly, Marluxia knew that if he reported that Roxas had attacked him, questions would be raised as to why Roxas had attacked him. Nothing good could come from those inquiries.

This also ruined his plans to overthrow the Organization. It was clear that Roxas wouldn't be joining the cause anytime soon, and he needed a keybearer. As for Sora; Marluxia had been counting on Naminé's need for a hero, and it was clear she already had one in Roxas. Equally, keeping Naminé intimidated and under his control was essential. Killing Roxas was out of the question (for the time being, at least.) If Roxas was out of the picture, the Organization would have to turn to Sora in order to complete their plans, thereby ruining his. Once Sora was in his control, he could kill Roxas, but until then, he needed the boy alive.

But his involvement with Naminé was problematic. Once Naminé was moved to Castle Oblivion Roxas would be out of the picture.

Why was the little brat so insistent upon protecting that little witch anyway? Stupid teenagers.

Marluxia froze in front of a rosebush. He turned to look at the red flowers. Flowers that were supposed to represent love.

Of course.

Roxas and Naminé were nobodies, so they weren't supposed to be able to feel love. But that didn't change that they were two lonely teenagers; teenagers with raging hormones.

Marluxia smirked at his rosebush. Neither could remember their past, neither knew who they really were, they were both confused children. Naminé needed a hero; Roxas needed someone to be a hero for. They were kindred spirits; or at least fancied themselves thus.

Now this could be helpful information. What better way to get revenge than to break their non-existent hearts? Get Roxas in trouble for his involvement with Naminé; tell poor Naminé that Roxas doesn't care for her, then take advantage of Naminé's rebound by dropping Sora on her doorstep at Castle Oblivion.

But how to confirm their interest in each other?

Surely Roxas had confided the information in one of his friends. Axel, perhaps. But Axel would never betray his friend's secrets. Who else would Roxas confide in? Demyx, perhaps? Would Roxas really be dumb enough to confide in that nimrod? Either way, Demyx might know something, and he was Marluxia's only lead. Perhaps there was a great way to get revenge after all.

XIII

Naminé gasped in pain.

For the hundredth, millionth time, please hold still." Roxas told her, not unkindly, as he carefully maneuvered the tweezers to remove the rose thorn from Naminé's shoulder.

"It hurts!" She whined, wiggling again.

Roxas pulled the tweezers away from her shoulder and sighed exasperatedly.

"Naminé," he said, trying to be patient. "I know it hurts, but if you keep wiggling, it's only going to hurt worse, and take me longer to pull it out. And if I don't get it out, then it's gonna get infected, and that really isn't gonna be fun."

Naminé sighed. "Okay, okay."

Roxas gave her a small smile before trying once again to remove the thorn. "I'm not trying to sound insensitive," he said as he worked, "But you really need to hold still."

Except for the occasional squeak of pain from Naminé, they were silent as Roxas dug the thorn from her shoulder. Finally Roxas was able to pull the two inch thorn from Naminé's flesh.

She winced as the thorn slid through her skin. Roxas placed the bloody thorn and tweezers on the table and began bandaging Naminé's shoulder.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Naminé said softly. Her remark caught Roxas off guard at first. Apart from Roxas's occasional admonitions to hold still, neither of them had said a word since Roxas had confronted Marluxia.

"Of course I did. The thorn needed to come out, your arm would've gotten infected," Roxas replied, focusing on applying various ointments to Naminé's arm.

The pale girl rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Roxas paused. "I couldn't let him hurt you." He still wouldn't look at her, but appeared to be about to say something else. He paused with his mouth open, then seemed to change his mind. "I want to make sure the thorn is all out before I cast a cure spell. I think it's best to let your arm heal on its own for a few days, you know, make sure it's not infected. Cura will only heal the surface wounds. I don't have a spell strong enough to combat infection."

"…Roxas," the boy hesitantly met her gaze. She was smiling.

"Thank you. For everything," she whispered, and Roxas noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He smiled back.

"You fought back. And for that, I am insanely proud of you. I promise, I won't let him hurt you again."

Naminé then reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck catching Roxas off guard. He felt heat rush to his face. "I know you won't "

Unsure of what else to do, Roxas hesitantly brought his arms up and wrapped them around Naminé's small frame. She felt so fragile, like she would break if he held her too tightly. But Roxas knew truth: She was quit resilient, his china doll. She wasn't made of porcelain glass; she was made of hard concrete.

XIII

AN:1- I think this is like, my first ever attempt at writing an action scene. I find that kind of sad. Also, there is a reason that Roxas doesn't have Oathkeeper yet. I'll get there, just wait. In the meantime, I figured I'd give him Lionheart since I think it'd look cooool with Oblivion.

Wooh! Fluff! And more to come!