A/N: Hello readers! I would really appreciate it if you dropped a comment down there to let me know how you're liking this fic so far! It's very experimental for me, so your reactions are very helpful in deciding how to proceed. Thanks!

Chapter 4: Shades Between

Roxas wore his slave collar with contempt. That much hadn't changed since the exchange on the clock tower. No matter how pretty it was, no matter that it was lightweight and not overly tight, it was still a prison. The scars he wore would always be with him, the ugly proof that he had to be broken before he bowed his head obediently. That he could live with, even if remembered pain was an agony.

The contempt was still there, then, but much of his fear had faded. While he still didn't trust his master, he realized that he'd earned a little of Axel's trust. He hadn't run, and he hadn't moved against Axel when the opportunity was presented to him. It wasn't the same trust that Xion held—Roxas doubted Axel would ever allow him to roam alone in the city—but it was a start.

He wasn't sure what to do with that trust. He didn't want what Xion had.

The person he was before had had goals, aspirations. Ideals. But those had disappeared with him, and Roxas was left behind, alone. Empty.

It would be incorrect to say he found meaning in following Axel's orders, in trailing the man around the city. He did those things because he had to, and because they kept him occupied. They kept him from thinking dangerous thoughts.

Until the day Axel announced that Roxas would begin accompanying him to the Organization.

He had come home in a foul mood, his return punctuated by the slam of the front door. Xion had taken one look at him and pulled Roxas with her into their quarters, only moments before Axel bellowed, "Leave me!"

Roxas' nerves were on edge, his eyes wide, as he listened to the crashes and bangs coming from the workroom. Would he be summoned? Would Axel come after him instead, to haul him out? It had been long enough since he'd been abused, that he'd grown used to the lack of pain. He no longer anticipated it, and that, he realized, could be a fatal error.

"Hey." Xion's soft voice pulled him away from the noises outside. "It's okay. He's not like that."

"Just because he's never turned on you, doesn't mean he won't turn on me," Roxas muttered.

"He won't. He'll wear himself out in the workroom." She let out a small laugh. "You'll have a mess to clean up, but that's all."

Roxas shot her a look that said he was doubtful. A thought surfaced, of Axel, unguarded, atop the clock tower, and he remembered that he'd gotten here through his own decision. He clung to the thought, tight, as he heard Axel's raging slow, and then stop.

Xion gave him a reassuring smile. "See? He just needs time. He's a person, like anybody else."

Roxas stared at her. She said it so simply, as if everyone knew it to be a fact, that nothing separated slaves from owners. He was still processing the words when she stood in a fluid motion and, with a word about dinner, headed towards the kitchen.

Slaves. Masters. Black and white. They were fundamentally different. If a person owned a slave, they were important, they mattered. Slaves were invisible, nothing. Being a person didn't come into it, because—because-

But it did.

Roxas felt the foundations below him shift when Axel summoned him, and he saw the man surrounded by the aftermath of his rage.

The workroom had never been tidy, but now it was a chaos of shattered glass, upended toolboxes, and other detritus, all bearing scorch marks, and in one corner, a lingering fire licking at a bundle of half-burned papers. Axel didn't seem to notice. He sat, slouched against a cabinet, long legs sprawled out in front of him, head tilted back, an arm thrown across his eyes.

It was a weariness that Roxas was unaccustomed to seeing on an owner.

Axel dropped his arm and fixed his gaze on Roxas. They stared at each other for a rare moment, before Roxas cast his eyes to the floor. Axel let out a sigh. "Bring me a glass of water, please."

Please. To a slave. It gave him pause, his eyes flicking up to take in Axel's pallor, the way the purple ink on his face was starker than usual, before he turned on his heel to obey the request.

Unwilling to provoke him, no matter what his state, Roxas moved to start cleaning the mess as soon as Axel was sipping the water.

"Leave it." He turned back to Axel in time to see his hand flutter in a movement that extinguished the burning paper, and stood there, uncertain. Waiting for a dismissal. "I'm sorry," Axel said, at last. "I scared you."

Roxas stilled. He couldn't deny it. "What do you want me to say?" He said it as earnestly as possible, and even then, it sounded impertinent. He braced himself for the blow-back.

Axel's laugh caught him off-guard. "Nothing, Roxas. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted some company."

"Should I ask Xion to send a card out?"

Axel drew a leg up and settled his chin on it. "Why? You're here, aren't you?"

Roxas took an involuntary step back, wary.

"Tell Xion to bring out some ice cream, yeah? Three bars." Axel stood, dusting off his pants.

Roxas did as he was told, and when he and Xion entered the study, Axel was at the window, watching the sun sink behind the city. He turned to the two of them, and his lips turned up in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Wordlessly, Xion handed him one of the ice creams, and joined him at the window. Roxas followed her example, still in unfamiliar territory with his master's mood.

It was full dark before Axel turned to ignite the lamps in the room, his fingers moving in the half-light from the city outside. By then, he seemed more himself, less weary.

"Roxas," he announced, "Starting tomorrow, you'll accompany me to work. Got it?"

Roxas nodded.

As Roxas set to work cleaning Axel's mess—he'd been given leave, after dinner—he thought about the popsicle stick he'd tucked into his pocket. Winner, it read. Even though Axel had let him keep the cast-off book, he wondered if the man knew he could read. Probably he thought that Roxas had taken up Xion's hobby of collecting worthless things; reading wasn't something that many slaves learned to do.

Roxas had had no trouble reading through the harlequin novel in the glow of a single candle. And yeah, it was a shit read.

But he could read. That was something he could hold onto.

That, and the image of his master on the floor, looking up at him with weary eyes. Even if he tried to, he couldn't forget it. Because in that moment, Axel had gone from being an owner, to a person. Roxas' vision of black and white bled into greys, just a little.

o - o - o

Axel walked to work.

It was something Roxas hadn't expected. He knew little about his master's life outside of his home, but he knew at least that the long silver chain across his chest was a symbol of status, and that Axel had a rank in the Organization. Xion was very proud, beaming when she told Roxas the respect their master commanded.

He'd thought the recent day out an exception, a free day meant for taking the air and loitering. So Roxas had expected Axel to climb aboard a waiting rickshaw, or hail a cab, for work.

Instead, they walked, Axel picking his way through the streets with long, sure strides. Despite that, he kept his pace slow, and Roxas wondered if he was dawdling, or accommodating Roxas' shorter stride. If the night before was any indication, it was more likely the latter.

They passed the slave sector along the way. Roxas kept his gaze on his master's black-clad figure, but even then, he couldn't tune out the miserable atmosphere. He wondered, briefly, what about him had stood out enough for Axel to notice him, when the man all but ignored the huddled shacks and gilded tents clamoring for attention. Especially when he already had Xion, and could clearly afford better.

There was the thought, again, that Axel had chosen him for that reason, exactly: a cheap slave that didn't attract attention, to do with as he would.

But he hadn't. He'd come home in a rage, and he hadn't.

Instead, Roxas was in good health, and following Axel through the door of an imposing structure of glass and metal. The Organization was spelled out above the entrance in an intimidating—and likely expensive—display of electricity.

The Organization. The interior was sterile white, bustling with activity. There were a handful of others with the chains of status across their chests, caught in a brief glimpse before Roxas turned his eyes to the polished floor. A very few people with neither chains nor collars scurried to and fro, and collared slaves dutifully faded into the background.

There were other creatures, vaguely human-shaped, that moved with a weird, sinuous grace to follow barked directions. They weren't anything Roxas had ever seen before, and they seemed to be little more than puppets, fundamentally lacking something he couldn't put a name to.

"Dusks," Axel supplied, noticing the direction of Roxas' gaze. "I don't know where they come from, but they listen well enough. If only they weren't so freakish."

Roxas flinched as a person collided into his master without warning. "Axel!" he sang. "What's this!" He looked down at Roxas, his eyes settling on the metal band at his throat.

Axel shrugged him off with a groan. "Demyx, don't you have work to do?"

"Aw, but Ax! You never told me you got a new one! You even brought him to work!" Roxas forced himself very still as the man gripped his chin, inspecting him.

"Lay off! Who said you could touch my property?" Axel batted Demyx's hand away.

Despite Axel's word, property, Roxas was grateful for the interference. Axel's touches were expected, even if they felt invasive, but to have to endure others' was courting disaster, he knew.

"So selfish!" Demyx grinned. "He's just as cute as Xion; man, you know how to pick them."

Roxas couldn't help but stare as he watched his master give Demyx a solid smack to the back of his head. "I'm not like that, and you know it."

"Hey, ow! No shit! Me, neither! I just meant—"

"Then say what you mean." He started forward again with a dismissive wave, Roxas trailing behind, but Demyx still followed. Axel shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Unlike you, apparently, I have work to do. Go find someone else's time to waste."

"Spoilsport!"

Axel gave an exaggerated shrug. "Someone's gotta be."

They left Demyx behind, climbing a long, curved staircase, then down a hallway, until Axel stopped at a door. He traced a pattern in fire on the metal surface, setting off a mechanism to open it. The room inside was a larger, messier version of the home workroom, with tables littered with half-finished projects, schematics, and correspondences. It was brighter and cooler than the space at home, though, with a wall of glass looking out onto the city, and ventilation shafts in the ceiling.

"Welcome to the office of Rank Eight, Axel Cendres," he made an exaggerated gesture to wave Roxas into the room. He began pointing things out, with brief instructions, and the priority of each task, before retrieving a pair of black gloves and setting to work. How he found them in the mess was a mystery, but Roxas was about to fix that.

It was similar to home, after that: Axel manipulating fires, and Roxas tidying after him, although Axel's usual stream of chatter was more of a trickle as he concentrated on his work.

It was a relief, really, that it was the same, and the large window made it almost pleasant as he moved about the room.

"You don't…use pleasure slaves?" Roxas asked after a while. The question had been digging at his mind since the earlier exchange with Demyx.

Axel looked up, surprise written on his face. Roxas rarely spoke except when spoken to—a perfectly obedient slave, if that was what his owner wanted. Roxas was beginning to wonder if that was indeed what his owner expected, especially in moments like these.

Axel's lips stretched into a lopsided grin. "There's no fun in it. No challenge." He shrugged. "No challenge means no reward."

"If you're so keen on a challenge, then I think you'll find the Superior's latest orders fulfilling."

Axel and Roxas both turned to the owner of the monotone voice. Roxas caught a glimpse of bluish hair and a cross-shaped scar on the man's face before he turned his eyes to the ground. "Don't you know how to knock?" Axel's voice came out as flat as the intruder's, and despite the fire dancing in a nearby dish, the room suddenly felt cold; Roxas suppressed a shiver.

The man stepped close to Axel, invading his space to press a small bundle of papers to his chest. "Don't you know your place?" His gaze flicked to Roxas, unsettling yellow eyes that Roxas could see through his eyelashes. "You've brought a slave. How unlike you."

"You're not the only one capable of changing."

There was a tense silence, before the man spoke again. "See that you follow orders. To the letter, this time."

Axel closed a hand over the papers. "And if I don't?"

"It won't be me you answer to." He stepped back, and spared Roxas another glance, before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Axel sent a scathing glare in the direction of the man's retreating back. He turned to Roxas after the man was out of sight, giving him a once-over. "Close the door, Roxas." He untied the string holding the bundle closed while Roxas followed the order. The dark look on his master's face was an echo of the fury from the night before, and Roxas felt a tremor of fear run through him. The scowl on Axel's face grew as he read the first page, then shuffled through the other pages. "The Superior's orders. Right."

Axel tossed the bundle onto the nearest table and turned back to the metal component he'd been working on. Roxas waited for another explosive show of rage, like the night before, but Axel seemed to rein in his irritation, the hard line of his mouth the only sign that he was unhappy.

"Roxas, I need some Nova powder." Roxas blinked, coming out of a reverie he hadn't even realized he'd fallen into. A glance around the room didn't locate it, and he bit his lip. The work room was still disorganized to the point that items were difficult to find quickly, and he didn't think his master's patience was very forgiving at the moment. As if to verify it, Axel snapped his fingers, pointing his free hand at a table that Roxas hadn't yet cleared.

Roxas breathed a sigh of relief that the vials were in the first box he opened. He selected one, his eyes wandering to the bundle of papers that still lay where Axel had discarded them. Mission to Castle Oblivion…eliminate…locate the witch… Words popped out at him, and then ran together, his eyes glazing over in half-formed thought. There was something familiar…

"Roxas. The powder?" Axel's sharp voice called him back again.

Roxas shuffled over with the vial, his mind spinning. He wasn't sure if he wanted to dig deeper, to pursue the thought hooked in his head, or if he wanted to push it out. It seemed important.

But it was important to Sora. Not Roxas.

The revelation made him shake his head, clearing the haze that was trying to accumulate. Sora had had his chance.

The sun was sinking lower when Axel declared his work done for the day. Roxas' task of tidying was far from finished, after constant interruptions from Axel, but it was something he'd grown accustomed to, he realized. That, and the man's company. It was easier to bear it, if he looked at Axel as a person, rather than a master. They were not equal, but neither was the difference between them as stark as it had been.

Axel tucked his directive into an inner pocket before they quit the Organization.

Roxas was surprised when Axel led them back to the top of the clock tower. "Is this a test?"

Axel glanced over at him as he sat down on the ledge, feet dangling out over the city. He shrugged. "Saix is always testing me. He should know by now it's a waste of time."

"Saix…?" Roxas knew the confusion showed on his face.

"Our blue-haired friend. He thinks he's tough shit because he's Xemnas' lapdog. He's still only one rank above me." He leaned back on his hands. "It's all power plays, you know?"

Roxas studied him. "Is that what this is, then?"

Axel glanced over at him, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Is it?" He turned his gaze back out to the city, the light of the sunset glinting in his eyes. "You're awfully bold when you're so high up. Less afraid? Is this what you were like before they broke you?"

Roxas considered the question, following his master's gaze to the vivid colors of the sunset.

Axel patted the space of ledge next to him. "Sit down, Rox." He shrugged and added, "Only if you want to."

Roxas didn't sit. Finally he said, "A slave that's bold is only courting death."

Axel laughed at that. "That is true. You're a smart kid, Roxas." He shook his head. "Maybe not smart enough. I don't want you dead, and I'm not going to hurt you. Get it memorized."