AN: Be prepared for bad language, abuse of a little Roxas, and mild Akuroku moments. ;)
INTERLUDE PART TWO: The Young and the Ruthless
When Roxas was thirteen years old, he almost died.
A year after he had been dragged to the Military's North Branch by the disproving, impatient man who was his father, he was delving full-force into his new career in spite of his young age. It was just another barrier he had to work through to gain the respect of the men he had been dropped among. Axel Sinclair had helped somewhat, with his positive, accepting, caring actions towards him, but Roxas would not allow himself to be blind to what the other men were saying. How could he, when his father had taught him to be the ever silent observer?
Those men… those scientists and wannabe soldiers… spoke of him as if he were either a test subject or an insignificant bug, despite the power he possessed. They barely cared to look in his direction when they passed him in an empty hallway, they didn't speak to him unless it was to issue orders, and they didn't even acknowledge him when they talked with Axel. At those times, Roxas had learned to slip away silently. Axel always came and found him once he realized he'd gone, but it didn't change the fact that for a few minutes the only person who cared for Roxas forgot all about him.
Not that it mattered, Roxas had to continually remind himself; he did better on his own anyway, working from the shadows and without the burden of any other's unpredictability. And Axel, although the man was kind to him, was a heavy burden that he bore with wordless reception. He was just too… opinionated. The man could talk about anything and everything for hours upon hours. It had gotten to the extent that Roxas actually made a point of avoiding him some days.
It was one of those days, just weeks before his fourteenth birthday, when a group of the younger soldiers, all in their late teens and early twenties, attacked him. He had been wandering through the training grounds and armory rooms, which were across the complex from the barracks where Axel was sure to find him with rumors about Turks or ogling over the heroic soldiers that were rising in the South Branch at the ready. He had walked among the racks of gleaming-edged swords and gunblades, examining each one for flaws and picking out the few that were dull or less than up to par to grind to smoothness or fix up.
While he was analyzing the guns, which he had much less experience with, making it difficult to find the tiny faults he could identify in a blade easily, the group of experienced soldiers strode in as one. There were five of them, dressed in the blue grunt uniforms and toting guns and blades depending on the person. The leader was a man Roxas recognized immediately by his contrasting red and black uniform, the sea blue eyes and the messy blonde hair cropped Military-style. Luxord was a normally laid-back type of man who had a love for cards and a hatred for children. With Roxas the hard feelings were even worse since the teenager was already rising in the Military ranks. It wouldn't be long before Roxas was on the man's level, and that made Luxord angry. The older man had always been vocal about his emotions, too.
But he had never been physical with Roxas, and was almost companionable on the occasions they were required to speak. He gave a short nod to the fresh teenager on his way in before moving to the corner of the room where the sharp-edged staffs were. The superior soldier had his own personal arsenal of odd, steel-edged cards that he threw like daggers, and which were just as deadly, but he still went to the armory often to inspect the newer models of weapons. The rest of the men spread around the large room, their chatter filling the previous peace with a comfortable buzz. Roxas returned the nod to Luxord and turned back to his work, dragging the smooth grindstone over the blades in a therapeutic rhythm.
Minutes passed, and the warm, mindless chatter disappeared suddenly. Navy eyes rose to the soldiers that were now standing before him with crossed arms and sneering smirks. He took in the fact that Luxord had just left as he realized that the men were only a few feet away from him now. Strangely, he didn't feel fear, he only looked back down at the sword he had been sharpening.
Just as he was beginning to push the stone back over the sleek blade, both instruments were snatched from his hands and the other weapons were kicked away, the shriek of metal scraping across the dusty linoleum breaking the temporary silence.
"Look at this stupid fuck," one of the younger boys, Vanitas, snarled with a ruthless grin, "a mindless, dumb puppet. How he ever managed to get this far I'll never know. Oh wait, I do know. His obnoxious asshole of a father has connections, am I right?"
At Roxas's blank stare, Vanitas frowned, crouching down in front of the younger teenager.
"Yo, Axors. I asked you a question. Did your daddy pay your way in?"
Roxas still didn't respond, it wasn't because he was being dumb or stubborn, his voice just wouldn't move past his lips. It was like the emotions that had sunk into the cold hollowness in his chest; as impossible to reach as flying was. Vicious molten gold eyes flared when the blonde didn't so much as flinch from his stare and before he knew it a hand was twisting into Roxas's unruly spikes and wrenching his head back as Vanitas stood.
"I'm talking to you, grunt!"
"I'm the same rank as you, Atisvan."
Roxas didn't know why he had spoken the quiet, solid words, but he didn't regret them even as the grip on his hair tightened, the jerk making his neck crack like lightning and sending fiery pain down his nerves in the same manner. In an unspoken command, two boys grabbed either of his arms and pulled him up from the ground where he had been sitting cross-legged to slam him against the wall. Sharp aches of pain thrummed through his skin down to the bone, but he ignored it, his mind already beginning to shut off to the abuse.
He didn't notice Vanitas releasing him to go and pick up one of the many swords that were prepared for use. He didn't notice one of the lackeys crossing the room to lock the door. He only jolted back to reality when the cool kiss of steel met his cheek lightly to trail down, pressing harder and harder and finally drawing blood on his neck. That didn't stop the older teenager though, he just dug the razor-sharp point deeper into Roxas's flesh, as if the sight of blood fueled him like some kind of sadist.
And then the black haired soldier was slashing at Roxas's uniform, shredding the material and making scarlet bloom and soak into the ragged edges of cloth. The blonde gritted his teeth, muffling the cries of pain that threatened to break free and clenching his eyes shut in an effort to gain some type of control over the situation. He may not be able to fight four stronger soldiers but he was a master at controlling his body.
As the blade cutting into his skin went deeper and deeper, Roxas's mind was slowly slipping from reality once more. That is, until a shock froze up his body, stemming from somewhere in his abdomen. He had never been stabbed before, so the sensation was more shock than agony. Eyes glazing over, he could barely feel when the soldiers dropped him to the ground and uncertain whispers began to drift around. Vanitas's cruel voice snapped at the lowered ones.
A grunt slipped from Roxas's lips when a boot connected with his side with all the solidity of a rock. Others began to rain down on him, and the solid, thrumming assault was harder to block out than the icy caress of a metallic blade. During a pause, a cough wracked his body and even more blood spattered the gritty floor and trailed across his cheek. The pain had gone beyond the physical; it echoed across every nerve and in every inch of skin, and went deeper than he thought possible. His fingertips scratched across the red, slippery floor, but couldn't find the purchase that his palms needed to push himself back up. A red haze was settling over his mind and eyes, covering everything in a shimmery sheen of onyx and scarlet, making his movements confused and clumsy.
The soldiers hesitated, and Roxas faintly recognized the sound of someone beating on the door, and a familiar voice was shouting from the other side. There was a warning, and a countdown that went ignored, before a breeze of heat and the pop and flare of fire rushed through the room.
A minute or so passed of pained shouts, and then a pair of gentle hands were pushing him onto his back carefully.
"Oh, shit."
Roxas's eyes focused on the flash of cherry red above his head and he blinked at Axel's panicked, poison-tinted eyes. They were looking him over as those cautious hands hovered above his battered and sliced skin, as if the young man was afraid to touch him.
"Oh shit," Axel repeated breathlessly, twisting his kneeling body to shout towards the doorway, "get Vexen, now!"
"What the hell happened?"
"Larxene, I am not joking, get him NOW!"
Tittering footsteps sprinted away, and Axel directed his attention back to him, "Roxas, can you hear me?"
The blonde wanted to respond, but couldn't find the strength to through the thick fog suspended around him.
"Okay, okay…" Axel was stuttering now, his hands shaking as they took Roxas's, turning one over to check the pulse on his wrist. Roxas wanted to tell him that he was alright, but no matter how hard he tried the only thing that rose in his throat was blood or pants, "oh shit. Roxas, stay with me man. Squeeze my hand if you understand."
Roxas could comply with that much just barely, but the redhead's heady sigh of relief was worth the tremendous effort.
"Good, that's great, kid. Just stay with me, okay? Just hold on, help's coming."
"Vanitas?" Roxas half-panted, half-choked.
"Don't worry about that."
Navy eyes faded again and began to drift shut.
"Oh shit. No, no, no. Roxas, you gotta stay awake, you hear me? Tell me... uh… your parents' names."
"Lazarus."
"Yeah, that's your dad, what's your mom's name?"
"Don't have one. Dad never… told me." Roxas coughed violently, a spray of blood leaving his lips.
"Oh shit! Keep talking, Rox. I know it hurts, kid, but you have to keep talking."
"Why do you always curse, Axel?"
"I dunno, Rox, I'm just a wretched bastard, I guess. Why are you such an introspective dumbass?"
"My dad… told me that people like you… sharing your weaknesses through talk…"
"Your dad doesn't sound like a great guy."
"He tries to be good… he just doesn't know how."
Many sets of feet stomped back down the hall and Axel smoothed a calloused, burned palm over Roxas's prone hand.
"You're going to be fine, Roxas. I'm going to be right beside you, I swear."
Roxas wanted to ask what he meant by that; did Axel mean he was going to be beside him for the time being, throughout the panic of the next few hours, or for as long as he could?
But, he thought to himself as unconsciousness began to strike its claws into him and drag him down, all that didn't really matter. All that mattered was the pain was fleeing with his awareness, and the last thing he felt was the warm comfort of fingers twining with his as multiple pairs of hands lifted him from the ground.
Roxas stared into his reflection, tracing every scar with his eyes, a hand pressing to the spot just below his rib cage where he'd felt the most intense pain of his life. If Axel hadn't heard the screams he hadn't even realized he'd uttered, he would probably be dead. Three years ago, he might not have even cared, but now he had too much to lose. It had taken a few months for him to heal completely, and immediately after he began to see Saix, their elites' psychologist, on a weekly basis. With Saix and Axel's help he began to see all the things there were to live for.
Now, looking at these scars, it seemed so much longer ago than just a few years. He had grown so much stronger since then. He and Luxord were almost close friends now. Unfortunately, Vanitas and his friends didn't leave the armory alive that day; the moment Axel understood what was going on after melting down the metal door with his power, Vanitas and his lackeys were nothing but ashes and charred bones.
The rash action had earned a firm reprimand and temporary demotion, which was quickly thrown away when the knowledge of the extent of Axel's power and Roxas's injuries came to light. Vexen was adamant that there would be no punishment and used his position as one of Xemnas's most trusted underling to their advantage. Now, Roxas was still pouring his all into his career, but in a more healthy way. He worked hard to gain respect, money, and friendship when he could find it. He couldn't imagine any way to live his life other than to just live it.
His fingertips were cool against the silvery scars, and he smiled softly at the thought that Axel had indeed stayed with him through the entire healing process and beyond. Idiotic chatter had become idle, comforting words meant only to relax and fill empty space with affection.
A knock came on the bathroom door, followed by yawned words, "Roxas, you in there?"
"Yeah, Axel. I'll be out in a second."
"Hurry it up, if I'm not in a shower within five minutes I'm going to lose my mind. Just talking to my brother…"
The dramatic, choking noise made Roxas roll his eyes and grin softly, turning away from the mirror and throwing the door open. Axel leaned against the frame with raised brows and crossed arms, smiling crookedly.
"You know, Rox, we could take a shower together, I think you missed a huge spot right here," the man tapped Roxas's naked chest, which was spotless of course, "just thinking of all the infections you could get if you don't clean well."
"Shut up Axel. It's more likely that I'd get an infection and die just from seeing you naked."
The teenager shoved his shoulder as he passed, ignoring the snarky snickering behind him. He was climbing into his bed, across from Axel's in their shared room for elites, when the redhead finally turned away from him and entered the bathroom.
"Suit yourself!" the man sang, shutting the door and proceeding to sing off-key and loudly before the water had even been turned on.
Roxas groaned and rolled over, burying his head in the soft downy pillows, but Axel's voice could penetrate the strongest of steels, as had already been proven three years ago. The awful words of sap spread around the room and Roxas closed his eyes tightly, rolling them again behind closed lids.
The normalcy of this routine had him wondering about the strangeness of the past month. It's like something was changing, some sort of progression that was hovering just at the edge of his peripheral, close enough to feel but too transparent to comprehend. And he couldn't help but think it had something to do with that Angel and Guardian. It was almost foreboding, as if the life he had been leading was about to change. As if it was about to become something more than just living. It was a worrying thought that held his mind for the next few minutes. Axel's voice began to break its way back into his thoughts, almost comforting in its familiarity. He let the pillow fall away from his ears and stretched into a more comfortable position on his side, cradling his cheek with one palm as he listened to the off-key note that was now turning into a light-hearted yowling, scowling to himself at the horrid lyrics.
But when he finally drifted to sleep, a mild smile curved his lips. He didn't hear when Axel came back into the room, and didn't feel when a hand ruffled through his feathery hair, or when lips brushed his forehead tenderly.
"Good night, Rox."
AN: Next chapter- Vincent Valentine and Demyx. Hell yeah. :D
Thank you for reading, review and give me your thoughts, lest I abandon this story. Only one reviewer makes me think this whole story is a waste of time- no offense Define Anonymity, I'm extremely grateful for the continued support- so yeah. I'm about to just delete this and crawl under a rock for the next four years. I mean, does my writing really suck that bad? :'(
Sorry. I don't have that big of an ego but I honestly thought I was better than this. Anyway, moving on, I'll probably be posting chapter 10 next week sometime, and that's how future chapters are going to be. Once a week, unless I'm motivated enough to update sooner. Ciao!
