Title: Sound of Music

A/N: I slaved over this one. Seriously. I'm going through writer's block of epic proportions for me. D: So, this whole chapter? Each word written was dragged out of my head kicking and screaming. Hopefully this will be it with writer's block. But at the same time, my schedule is going to become busier, so… Yeah. We'll see how that goes! Ya'll enjoy! The song lyrics are from "Lena, Queen of Palasteena."

Kairi tapped her hand against the table, the sound muted by the fine table cloth. Her sequined dress flashed brightly, and the feathered show cape she wore did little to detract from the brilliance of the gold dress. Her headdress lay in the center of the table, too heavy to wear at any time.

Her feet ached from dancing, and her mood was as dark and pensive as the look on her face. In one corner of the room, Donald and Goofy lay asleep on their makeshift beds. But for a girl from a city that never rested, it was far too early to turn in.

Next to her was Riku, his hand gently wrapped around her own. His pinstripe suit made him look so handsome, she mused with a smile. She leaned close to his passed out figure and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He was the reason she kept dancing, even when the heels were making her feel as if she'd never walk normally again.

Donald twitched in his sleep, letting out a loud screech of rage as he flailed, fists hitting an imaginary target. Goofy compensated for the additional noise by snoring louder. How Riku managed to sleep through that, she'd never really understand.

Silk draped across her bed, folded onto the floor in an overly elegant manner, and she realized that she was too spoiled for her own good. The pillows called to her, fresh, fluffed, and all too comfortable. She sighed and looked away, the clock ticking away, like the tsking sound of a metronome.

Her eyes drooped closed and she sighed heavily, squeezing Riku's hand just a bit. And then there was knocking on the door, which opened after a soft "Come in." Riku jerked awake and looked around, eyebrows drawn together, cursing himself for falling asleep while Kairi had been talking.

The chandelier lighting the room shook, and the door opened and a small mouse walked inside, a wide smile on his face.

"Mickey!" Kairi breathed, jumping up and almost dragging Riku with her. She ran towards the center of the room, scooping the mouse into a hug. "When did you arrive?"

"Just a minute or two ago. I came as soon as you sent your letter about Roxas." The mouse glanced at Donald and Goofy, hands tugging on his red slacks. "Where is he, now?"

"I… Well, I didn't want to create a big fuss, so I," she trailed off, looking down at the ground.

Behind her, Riku stood up and placed a protective hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him, silence falling over all of them like a warm blanket. Perhaps they were more tired than she realized.

"He's with a man named Axel, as far as we know," Riku answered for her.

She leaned against him, watching the light and shadows play over her clothing, Mickey, and Riku's hand. "I hope he's alright. Axel was kind of shady," she admitted. Something in his voice, a sort of desperation rang true in his words even while she could tell he was lying through his teeth.

He needed Roxas. He needed Roxas and the money, and that could lead to any one of the scenarios popping into her head. "Do you think he'll come back?" She asked.

Riku reached to stroke her hair and she sighed. No one answered her question. Mickey's tail drooped and the silence settled in with a sort of finality. No one said anything. Mickey's half heard goodbye floated to the awake inhabitants of the room.

Riku picked her up, just enough to give himself some leeway to sit on the chair. She adjusted herself to sit in his lap. "Do you think I made a mistake?"

He shook his head, and she laid her head against his chest. There they sat in silence, his hand absently stroking her hair. The curtains shifted in an imaginary breeze, and Donald rolled over. Goofy snorted in his sleep, and they giggled. She looked up to Riku and smiled, his lips grazing hers.

"We'll just have to keep playing the waiting game, sugar," he whispered.

She nodded and clutched his shirt, her eyes falling shut. He smiled down at her, the muscles in her face slowly relaxing. Her breaths came in slow, even beats, and he knew she was asleep.

"What happened here?" she screamed, eyes searching the alleyway. "What's going on?" She could only hear the steps retreating.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, setting her down gently. She rolled onto her side and smiled.

There were two of them at opposite ends of the alleyway. The gravel and bits of paper, mixed with the glass of broken bottles from ages ago, scratched beneath her feet. Heartless had been swarming there only a second ago, and then they vanished.

Roxas lifted his head.

The lights turned off.

The alleyway was empty, though it seemed to stretch on forever. The moon shone down and he stood up, felt as if his head had hit the moon.

It felt like something fell down. One instant, he was naked, and the next he was clothed. The dark hallway twisted, ornamental candlestick holders grew out of the mildewed brick.

The mice kept saying, "God save the queen!" He found it really distracting.

"How many round epithets do you think were made Monday?" a short brown rat asked, standing on its hind legs and folding its hands. Its beady black eyes turned to look at him, as the mice chattered, unseen.

It was talking to him. "A hundred and twenty three," he answered without skipping a beat.

The mouse nodded and a woman tapped his shoulder. He assumed it was a woman, anyway, though there was no clear face, or even any distinctive figures to her shape. Though, if he thought about it, there really was nothing that said he was himself.

"Run!" she said simply and he ran, because she must have been right.

But so help him, he felt as if he were moving slower as he ran than if he had been walking. His feet would not move, and a sense of frustration overcame him. He had to run, but he couldn't and impending doom was at his heels.

Ahead of him was the color red, and he ran towards it, a voice hounding on his heels. He felt like he was running forever, like he had been running forever. A rat hovered in front of him. "And you think you're getting somewhere?" it demanded before it leapt at him.

Roxas sat up, arms flailing about him before clenching the covers. He stared at the patterns on the wallpaper, his breath slowing down. A shaky hand ran over his face and he groaned. When had he fallen asleep? And how long had he been there? Outside, a persistent cab driver honked his horn.

He did nothing for he didn't know how long. His head jerked up, reverie broken, when he heard the soft scratch of a record. The trumpets and clarinets belted notes out, and the tubas hummed softly under them. Roxas stared at his door and climbed out of his bed. He hurt.

"Lena is the queen of Palesteena," a voice sang.

Roxas walked towards the phonogram. Axel sat on the couch, legs folded Indian-style, head nodding in time to the beat, and lips moving along with the words. He looked like he was under some sort of spell, and Roxas didn't care because he was hurting too much. Axel liked the music because it blocked out Roxas's moans of pain when the boy was asleep.

He liked music for more than that, but that was just its latest use.

Roxas tripped over one of the tables, not paying attention. He yelled, hopping awkwardly on one foot and generally hating everything. Axel looked up and laughed at him, his sneer not very friendly at all as he stood up and helped the boy to the couch.

"There's a table there, by the way."

Roxas cursed. "It's not funny," he complained, hands gripping the folds of the couch. "It hurts," he mumbled, shaking.

"It's withdrawal," Axel commented and the music tapered off. He approached the phonograph and opened the cabinet underneath it where all the records were stored. He flipped through them, ignoring Roxas's growing frustration.

"Withdrawal?" Roxas demanded with a pained moan. "What are you talking about?"

Axel didn't respond to him, instead searching through the records before finding one that he was satisfied with. Roxas looked away from him, pissed that his pain was being shoved off in favor of music. He wanted to throw the record against the wall, with its pianos and clarinets and tunes that he could nod his head to.

Axel sat next to him and reclined. "Just listen to the music. It helps."

"How do you know it's withdrawal? Withdrawal from what?" Roxas demanded, the shakiness from his hands spreading up into his arms and shoulders. He gritted his teeth, as the pain rolled over him like a wave.

"Morphine does that," Axel replied, waving his hand to the tune, eyes closed and apathetic.

"Then fix it!" Roxas shouted suddenly, whirling on the redhead angrily. He couldn't forget all those days without the constant pain. He liked the numb feeling. "Give me more!"

He clenched his fist and Axel stared, eyes wide with shock, and then the shock was gone. He raised an eyebrow, face calm, and he couldn't force himself to care much about the boy's predicament beyond wanting to shut him up and somehow manage to keep him in tip-top shape. "I can't," he replied smoothly. "All out."

"What?" Roxas seethed. "What do you mean 'all out?' Go buy some more!"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a prescription for morphine?" Axel asked and stood up, walking away from the couch. "I'll give you a hint; it's easier to get a bottle of alcohol."

Roxas glared at him. Axel knew that the boy was wishing his eyes were daggers, and he had to laugh. By the look Roxas was giving him, if his eyes were daggers, the boy was a sadist like no other. He could never beat Larxene, but he could try with his angry stares.

"You won't get it now, Roxas," Axel said with a note of finality and Roxas snarled before curling into a little ball on the couch. "Just tell yourself it's withdrawal and it'll be easier," Axel said with confidence, even though he didn't know if the advice would actually work or not.

He didn't care. Roxas looked up at him, their eyes meeting. Roxas knew he didn't care, and the boy slumped forward. "You…" he mumbled.

Axel sat next to him again, reclining easily as the music played. Roxas shook, and he hummed louder, overpowering the sound of the boys whimpers. A door slammed somewhere in the outside hall.

"Just listen to the music," Axel said calmly. "It helps."

"No, it won't," Roxas shot back bitterly. Light prickles trailed down his back. His palms were damp. "You're a liar."

"What have I lied about yet?"

They were silent, Roxas racked his brain for something, anything, that he could say Axel had lied about. Axel relaxed with the smug knowledge that the boy would come up with nothing.

"Have you paid those people back? The ones th-that lent us the money?" Roxas asked, softly.

Axel glanced down at the boy where he rested on the couch, his face starting to glisten. Poor kid. "When you feel better, I'll let you take them the money."

Roxas nodded and went quiet again. The music continued playing in the background, clarinets backed by trombones, and a tuba playing somewhere underneath both of them. Jazz brought back good memories.

"What are the instruments playing?" Roxas asked, inhaling sharply for pain.

Axel smirked. "Well…"