After sneaking out of the library, Roxas and Vanitas shut the doors and barred it shut with a podium and stay close to the walls.

They crawl along the sides of the pews. Time is running out. The hallway to the center aisle is clearly looking like an exit, but if they don't reach it before the still circling priest comes up behind them, they'd be spotted. Both keep their hoods over their heads and Roxas pulls up his mask.

"Gods be praised!" shouts the mutilated priest. Vanitas feels his stomach tighten at another cry of pain. He doesn't dare look, but it sounds like one of them is sobbing. The dire hymn continues in its low, maniacal consistency.

At last they reach the final row. They lower themselves to the ground, looking for the feet of the circling priest. Once he is on the opposite side yet again, Roxas and Vanitas run towards the center.

Roxas immediately tugs Vanitas away when he sees what awaits them down the long entryway hall: two priests leaning against the door, their heads bowed and their arms crossed. He can't see their eyes in the split second before he and Vanitas roll to the pews on the other side. Their hoods are pulled low. They might be asleep . . . or they might have spotted their rolls.

No shouts of warning come from the door. They have gone unnoticed.

"Praise be." Vanitas whispers under his breath. "Nice reflexes."

Roxas nods as he keeps his eyes on the priests. There is no way they can sneak past the two of them, nor can Vanitas help subdue them with his bare hands.

"Vanitas, stay here." Roxas orders.

"What?"

"Get here." Roxas says. "No argument."

"What about you?"

"I'll handle the priests." Roxas says as he places a hand on the hilt of his daggers. "You'll know when to come in."

"Okay. Be safe."

"Always."

Roxas makes his way back towards the front. The bleeding priest has stopped crying, instead sucking loud, labored breathes in through clenched teeth. The other has begun reciting a series of scriptures that cools Vanitas' blood.

"Only in death is life reborn. Only in blood is sin denied. Only in darkness is the world saved. Only in absolute emptiness is there order."

"Praise be." The other priest stammers.

The circling priest switches hymns, his voice deepening and the words slowing. Vanitas can't understand the lyrics, but the song gives him the shivers. The two priests up from aren't helping either. Judging by the song, the man is near the door. Time is short.

Roxas looks around the pew to the statue. The first priest has placed the dagger upon the altar, its hilt and blade covered in blood. Beside it is a severed hand. The other is clutching him, repeating scriptures while blood seeped into the bandages wrapped around the stump.

"Forgive me my theft." The wounded priest murmurs, his skin pale and his eyes roll back in his head. His words mingled with the scriptures, blending in perfect harmony. "Forgive me my theft, Lord. Wounded I enter, but enter I will."

"Only in blood is sin denied."

"Forgive me my theft, Lord. I deny myself the chaos."

"Only in absolute emptiness is there order." The two repeat as one.

Roxas chooses this moment to strike. He kicks the unwounded priest behind the knee, the man's head smacking the altar on the way down. Planting his feet firm, Roxas rams his body against the other, elbowing the bloody stump. The priest cries out, staggering backwards on weak legs.

Giving neither time to respond, Roxas pulls out his daggers, spins, and slashes open the first priests throat. As his body spasms, Roxas turns to the other and lunges. The dagger pierces the man's chest.

"Only in blood," the priest whispers with his dying breath.

A bolt of shadows strikes Roxas' side. He cries out, stunned by the immense pain. It feels like every nerve in the area is firing off sensations of pain. Rolling to avoid the next, Roxas clutches his dagger tightly in his hands. The hilt is slick with blood, and he might lose it if he isn't careful."

"Killed amid worship!" the third priest shouts, his voice booming in the great room. "You will suffer for such blasphemy!"

Two more bolts of shadow fly from the priest's hands, splintering wood and cracking stone where they strike. Roxas runs between the pews, using their wood for cover. The priest is halfway down the center aisle. Close enough. Roxas steps onto a pew and leaps with all his strength. His body stretches, the dagger lashing out. The priest, stunned by the sudden assault, tries to ward himself. The spell dies on his lips as the dagger slashes his face.

Then their bodies collide. Roxas screams as his shoulder rams the priest's chest, wrenching his whole body violently. With it still not being fully healed, the pain is excruciating. Roxas spins and lands on a pew, his feet pressing onto the seat. The priest fares better, collapsing into a sitting position on the pew.

"Suffer!" the priest shouts. The word carries power with it. Roxas rolls to the floor, his mind white with pain. "You cannot resist my power!" the priest says, reaching to take away the dagger. "How such a simple boy can kill two of his . . ."

Roxas grabs the man by the throat, puts a leg underneath him and pushes, ramming himself into the priest's stomach before the man can close his fingers about the hilt. The man's hand claws about him, flailing. Roxas stabs him once, twice, then twists the blade upon yanking it out. Blood shoots across the front of his tunic.

"Your god means nothing to me." Roxas says, feeling joy at denying the man's dark god as he dies.

Roxas turns to where he left Vanitas. He stays crouched, eyes wide in shock. Roxas runs to the altar and grabs the bloody knife next to the severed hand. He doesn't shout, but throws it to Vanitas. He catches is in his cloak, cleaning the handle of the knife.

The two other priests have come running down the long entryway and into the room beyond. Unlike the other three, they are not caught unaware. Dark magic crackles around their fingertips as they summon the might of their god. With the sounds of battle, the rest of the priesthood will soon awaken and join them. They has one chance to escape, and that involves a head-on approach against two furious priests.

Roxas smiles and ducks below a pew. Vanitas, dagger clutched tight in his right hand, he makes his charge.

Bolts of shadows strike the pews, exploding their wood into splinters. They hit to either side of him, for Vanitas leaps over the first row, using the seat to catapult himself into the air. He flies heels-first, curling gracefully to land atop the very last row. More bolts chase him but he twirls into another jump, the dagger flashing with each spin as it catches the light of the altar's fire.

When he hands, Vanitas does not engage but instead runs between them, his dagger lashing outward. The one on the right screams as the tendons underneath his arm tears, blood rushing down his side. Vanitas goes to cut the other, but the priest laps his hands together. A wave of power rolls outward, knocking the boy aside as if he is an insect before a storm. Roxas springs up from his hiding spot and leaps up, catching Vanitas and both boys tumble. Vanitas uncurls himself from Roxas' arms as the priest approaches.

"Get back," the priest on the left tells his wounded friend, who reluctantly obeys. Roxas stands and spins his dagger between his fingers.

Roxas takes two steps towards the door as if to flee, then drops flat on the ground. A blast of red lightning shoots above his head, breaking the thick bar across the doors. Roxas rolls to his knees and kicks. Instead of directly charging the priest he lunges to the side, ramming his shoulder against the wall. Another bolt of shadow strikes the ground, missing by inches.

Both priests begin their prayers for another spell, but Roxas is too close. Their hands move as if in a dream, their bodies surrounded by molasses. Roxas kicks off the wall, spins once, and slashes his dagger into the nearest priest's chest. Without slowing he spins about the body, stabbing again, and then jumps towards the other. His foot crushes windpipe; his dagger pierces lung.

The priest falls. Vanitas comes up next to Roxas and tosses the sacrificial dagger.

"He can keep it." Vanitas tells the bodies.

With the bar broken, they push open the doors with ease. They avoid the obsidian steps, not liking the way they glow in the waning moonlight. The soft grass feels wonderful on their feet, as they sudden rush of fresh air. Only the fence blocks their way. Roxas laughs. After five priests, a fence is child's play. With Vanitas following, Roxas swings his weight from one side to side as he shimmies up the bars, then somersaults over the sharpened tops. The landing jars Roxas' legs, adding more pain to his already impressive list, but they are out.

They look back to the temple, watching as it slowly turns into an earthly mansion, its columns fading into shadows and lies.

Roxas gazes up at the sky. A full moon dominates the velvet sky with starts poking holes in its darkness. His heart sinks and he sighs.

"What's wrong?" Vanitas asks as he starts to casually walk away, ushering Roxas to join him. Roxas follows, bending his arm to ease the pain in his elbow.

"Ah, I was supposed to be at the docks by twilight. We were in there longer than I anticipated."

"Well, at least you have a story to tell."

"Not if I don't get back home to tell it." Roxas says.

Vanitas softly chuckles and takes Roxas wrist and with their missions complete, leads him around the streets. Roxas is curious as to what Captain Axel is thinking right now. Is the ship already sailing? A part of him thinks that Axel wasn't true to his word that they would leave without him. If they did, they lose the boon Roxas promised them if they ensure the safe return of him to his father.

Roxas is far too valuable to them moneywise. Still, a part of him wants to check out the docks to see if it's true. If so, at least it won't be all bad. Now that he's reunited with Vanitas, and with their mission a success, maybe he will let Roxas stay at his home, wherever that may be.

The boys wander down the streets, looking like nothing more than a couple of young men wandering the streets at night. With most shops closed and stands vacant of people, the boys stroll along the cobblestone. Roxas doesn't notice Vanitas' hand still holding his wrist as they walk, the pain in his shoulder throbbing annoyingly.

"You want to visit the docks? Just to check?" Vanitas asks.

"Yes." Roxas says. "Do you know the path from here?"

"Destiny Isles isn't as big as you think, so once you know the main roads, it's simple to navigate. So, yes." Vanitas smirks.

Roxas rolls his eyes and lets Vanitas take the lead. Soon they reach the marketplace, seemingly unfamiliar without so many people bustling about. Now it's only the drunkards of the night along with the provocative women prowling the streets for their victim men to waste their hard-earned pay.

They spot one in a provocative uniform, and she wears a lace mask and deep red lipstick. She smiles giggles and waves with a twiddle of her fingers. "Hi, Vanitas. Are you planning to visit me tonight? Your friend can come to." She coos.

Vanitas smiles and domineeringly laughs in an attempt to cover up Roxas' foul snarl. "Not tonight, I'm hosting my own guest. But keep the bed warm for me." He winks.

They pass her and Roxas gives a small sound of disgust. "Degrading."

"Not a fan of funhouses, huh?" Vanitas teases.

"Not now, not ever."

"You're a strange one, Roxas."

"I see it as a form of control. It's clear you need some form of lust to keep you satisfied just like every other drunk bastard."

"Are you saying I'm weak?"

"When in the control of your desires, yes. You're weak and not in control."

"Well that's why I'm better." Vanitas retorts.

They soon reach the Square and the only shop open is the tavern. Its windows give off a warm buttery glow and the sounds of the men and women singing and clanking tankards together can be heard from their position on the opposite side of the street. As they pass, the door suddenly barges open, and out stumbles Xigbar and Luxord. At first they both seem hammered, Luxord shouting Roxas' name from across the street. Apparently even with blurred vision, he can still spot Roxas.

"I blame your hair." Vanitas whispers as he steps back into the shadows.

Roxas scoffs and jogs across the street to the two men. Relief fills his stomach and perhaps eve joy shoots through him at the sight of the two other men still present in the town.

"Roxas!" Luxord screams between giggles. "You're still here! I thought you had ditched us!"

"You're still here." Roxas states to Xigbar since it appears he's the competent one in the situation.

"Yeah, and monkey's fling their own poop." Xigbar growls. "Now, if we're done stating the obvious, I need to tell you. Axel made us stay since a good few of the men have taken that long-ass trail down towards the tipsy village."

"It's clear to see. Are the men staying at the tavern or an inn?" Roxas asks.

Xigbar shrugs Luxord up more on his shoulder, grunting in aggravation. Roxas can't help but wonder thinking he's witnessing the two kinds of drunk men can become. Luxord being the one who laughs and giggles, and Xigbar, who's probably had a few strong shots, being the grouchy persons who will pick a fight over the smallest thing.

"Well, that depends. A few of the men chose to stay in the whore house, while others, as I'm sure you can guess whom are staying an inn. I'm on my way there now." Xigbar explains. "You coming?"

"Later." Roxas says. "I'm going to scour the night, maybe pick up a few clients for my father."

Xigbar chuckles. "I can see why Captain Axel found you useful, but you need to learn to relax, boy." With that, he turns and begins to haul Luxord down the sidewalk. For a moment, Roxas wants to help, but rules it out at the thought of Luxord suddenly losing his liquor.

Roxas waits until they're halfway away from the tavern before he turns and goes back to the spot where Vanitas disappeared into the alleyway.

"We're fine." Roxas whispers into the darkness.

Vanitas emerges and grins. "Well, as luck would have it, I do have another job for us, if you're interested."

"How about I tend to my wounds before you get me killed." Roxas says. Vanitas steps out, his cloak seemingly to trail behind him like the train of a bridal dress.

"Now why would I get you killed?" Vanitas grins. One corner of Roxas' mouth twitches and Vanitas grabs his shoulder, shaking him playfully. "Come on, I'll take you to my hideout."

"I'm waiting on bated breath." Roxas amuses.

Vanitas taps his shoulder and Roxas follows him down the street. The boys surprisingly seem to talk the whole time. Vanitas talked to Roxas about how he had moved out from the orphanage.

Vanitas' parents left him there since he was little. Vanitas once told Roxas that he thought he was an 'accident.' Vanitas' mother was a prostitute who had become with child of one of her clients; a Duke on the high court of the king of Destiny Isles. When she had gotten word, he wanted no part of raising Vanitas, let alone owning up to being the father. Vanitas says that his mother probably had good intentions, but she just didn't want him around the tavern, let alone have him witness what she had to do. She had wanted him to be in better conditions, have a mother of proud reputation; and since she couldn't over him anything, she turned him over to the orphanage.

Growing up there wasn't the best as one can imagine. Strict rules and curfews, cruel retribution from the caretakers should the children disobey the rules.

"You will do as I say you filthy children or you'll feel the sting of my whip!"

Roxas looks to Vanitas and can see, poking out of the corner of his collar, a small scar sticking out and drifting down to what Roxas assumed was his chest. No doubt Roxas can see the outline of a buckle.

"Come here boy!"

Roxas shivers at the thought of another man laying hands on him. His father rarely ever laid hands on him, whether to give punishment of praise, their contact is rare; Roxas can only recall his father's kiss on his forehead back home at the Oblivion mansion.

At the age of eighteen, Vanitas moved out of the orphanage, given the right of a man, and set out to obtain a new home. With the harshness of the streets and the limited charity given by others, Vanitas was soon adopted into a thief's guild and trained by Guildmaster's right hand woman. Within that year, Vanitas leveled up the ranks quickly and soon became the third in command.

Now, at the age of nineteen, Vanitas while he lives alone, is still connected to the guild, called upon when they need him. He never did go back to visit his mother. He doesn't even know what happened to her, and he says he doesn't care. Roxas didn't ask him anything further about it.

"I'm eager to see where you live now." Roxas says as they boys turn left at an intersection.

"Hopefully its accommodations live up to your likeness."

"I can handle anything. As my father trained me." Roxas says.

"Where is it you live now?"

"I live with my father in a mansion." Roxas says. He doesn't care about what he reveals to Vanitas; he knows where his loyalties lie and he trusts him wholeheartedly. "We bought it from a noble who left town. He pays for the upkeep on it, but he never stays there anymore."

"Hmm, sounds like the perfect place for a man of power such as your father." Vanitas says.

They slip in between a couple buildings and climb up a strategically placed stack of crates up to the ledges above. Then Vanitas climbs up further to an outside loft area and over a few ledges and a railing for a balcony window lies a tall clock tower looming tall over the city. Roxas looks at the tower in awe.

"Yeah, it's not much but it's got a great view." Vanitas says. He takes Roxas' wrist and guides him over to the entrance to the clocktower.

Walking in, the air smells old and crisp, like a mixture of dusty old books and the smell of autumn leaves on a dry day in autumn. Walking through the threshold, Roxas peers up and finds a long rectangular staircase lead up to the clock part of the tower.

Roxas follows Vanitas up the steps, ignoring the burning in his thighs and holding in a groan. When they get to the top, the room opens up wide, revealing the gears and shifts and weights and bells that seemed to work well when in operation, but now their glory is deemed lower as they are now covered in dust.

"This tower has been abandoned since they built a new one on the other, busier side of town. They just keep this one standing because it counts a memorial when the town first settled here." Vanitas informs.

From the stairs, turning left reveals a small bed tucked away under another set of stairs leading higher up to the windows located in the back of the tower. Next to the bed is a small end table and shelves trailing along the wall, stacked surprisingly with a bunch of books and tomes and classical novels. Then following the wall, it's a vanity with chips in the wood and a mirror with a crack in the corner, a pitcher and soap dish, and then a dresser with an extra set of knives laying on top.

Several trios of candles are scattered about the space to add to the moonlight peering through the glass of the clock face and the windows. Roxas follows Vanitas to the left and to another section of the tower where long mauve tables, dust covered as well with velvet cases holding precious unique valuables Vanitas has collected over the years; including paintings, bracelets, rings and city plaques. The gathering of items makes Roxas feel like he's almost in a hidden underwater grotto filled with hidden collectables that can only be seen by those you trust most.

"Impressive collection." Roxas says.

"Thank you." Vanitas smiles. "Quite proud of it."

Vanitas continues up the set of steps that hover over his bed and top the upper level where Roxas can only assume is like his workspace. Roxas passes one chest and lifts the lid to find it stuffed with supplies. An extra bow, two extra belts of knives, a short sword and rapier sword, food, some glass throwables – like bottles and glass cups, and flashbombs. But the one thing that surprises Roxas the most is collection of how many arrows Vanitas has; the majority most he likely forged himself. His arrows seem to have some kind of special container of mechanism that releases smoke or steam or water.

Roxas can see water arrows, fire arrows, explosive arrows, broadhead arrows, rope arrows, and choke arrows. The choke arrows releases a noxious gas that stuns enemies in a cloud of fumes. These arrows can also knock out caged birds and dogs that would otherwise give the player's position away if detected. Probably among the most useful arrows, these water arrows allow the extinguish of open flames such as torches resulting in darkness. The release of water from the barrel upon impact extinguishes small or medium-sized sources of flame such as torches, fireplaces or braziers. Rope arrows may be shot above into specific wooden overhanging arches to affix a rope that allow him to climb up.

"How did you make these?" Roxas asks as Vanitas comes back down with a slice of beef jerky. He holds up a fire arrow.

"Powder in the barrel reacts to a triggered spark upon impact creating a small burst of flame that can ignite some flammable materials." Vanitas explains.

"Wow." Roxas gives a soft smile. "I like the broadhead and sawtooth ones."

"The brutal, heavier sawtooth construction offers increased damage and penetration due to serrated blades, a strengthened tip and a better weighted shaft." Vanitas swallows his jerky and drinks a small glass of water. "The broadhead, simple but effective, the double-bladed head deals damage over a good distance to offer a wide range of use from deadly to dexterous."

Roxas picks up an explosive arrow, twirling it between his fingers. "I like what you did here. The more volatile barrel canister and heavier trigger delivers a small but intense explosion that ignites flammable materials and deals extensive damage to the target area.

"Your dad taught you well." Vanitas says.

"Yeah." Roxas says, still gazing at the arrows. Vanitas looks to him, leaning his head to one side. "You know, you should come and live in our Guild." Roxas suggests.

Vanitas raises his eyebrows.

"We have better living conditions, better food, and warm fires. Better women in our territory. And we can see each other. Go on missions together." Roxas persuades.

Vanitas chuckles. "Thanks, but I like it here. I have my own reputation and livelihood here."

"At least think about it?"

He laughs and nods. "Oh, before I forget, I wanted to give you something." He says as he pushes off the wooden railing and heads back up the steps.

"What? What is it?" Roxas follows him up the steps to the work space.

There is a window on the left end, then its bookshelves, another window and a workbench with small candles placed around the tables and a scattering of newspapers articles on the floor. Roxas spots a ladder next to the window on the left, following to where it leads, and it disappears up to the rafters of the clock and hands of the tower. Designed in a gambrel style, the rafter has little ledges and corners that Roxas can easily picture himself sitting on and looking out through the glass.

"Still a bit of a slob." Roxas teases.

"Not like I expected you to come over."

"I'm not complaining, I'm just stating a fact."

He hears Vanitas chuckle softly. "Come here." He calls. Roxas jogs over to the bookshelf.

He hops up onto one of the ledges of the window as Vanitas' fingers trail over the books with a featherlike touch. He pulls out a large green book with gold foil glinting on the cover and spine, revealing floral motifs and elegant lettering. The book's yellowing block of pages looked almost too thick for its own binding.

"About two hundred years ago the priests of a light god succeeded in a massive conversion of the brethren of a dark god. It was then that their presence in the city weakened, and their kind was banished from the city."

He hands Roxas the book, and Roxas folds his legs, placing the book in his lap. Vanitas leans his hip against the ledge, looking down with Roxas; sparing the blonde a thoughtful gaze. Opening the behemoth volume, Roxas begins flipping through whole sections at a time, as though searching for a name in an obituary.

"They fought bitterly, as you can imagine, and with heavy hearts. A score of priests repented, sneaking away from their god of light's temple and throwing themselves at the dark temple's doors in Traverse Town." Vanitas elucidates. He points to a small picture at the bottom of one page, depicting two men in white robes knelt in prayer before a hooded man in a purple black robe. Roxas tries to ignore how close Vanitas leans, his hair nearly brushing Roxas' cheek. "They tested their faith. Those that lived were admitted into the priesthood, but not entirely. The high priest at the time was a brilliant man named Ansem the Wise."

"I know of him," Roxas says. The chunks of pages slapped against one another until finally he stops on a page that depicted a handwritten format. Fine threads of ink curled upward and downward and chased one another around, spreading their way across the page like veins in fused with black poison. They connected and layered with one another, intertwining and weaving in and out to depict the curve of a delicate wrist, or to convey the motion of wind through the swells of gossamer veils. "Forfeited his fortune to devote his life to a dark god? Xehanort was particularly fond of his sayings, and used them often in his sermons."

"How is that gold goat? Or I assume he's old by now." Vanitas asks.

"Hard as nails and brutal as a mailed fist." Roxas says with a small smile. "So, is this about the Faceless group you told me about?"

Vanitas nods. As Roxas reads on, he soaks up each new bit of information and begins to piece them together. He sees mostly portraits of former high priests, though among them are scenes of warfare, battles between angles of dark and light, and even serene depictions of nature. Like jolts of electric current, Roxas' thoughts race ahead of him to make one connection after another until his mind becomes a live switchboard of linking sequences.

"Ansem the Wise knew that to welcome the traitors back without penalty could weaken them. He also knew that their devotion could be of great use, but only if the traitor-priests were forever reminded of their failure. So he wrapped them in cloth and ordered them to never reveal their skin until the end of their days. They slept separate from the rest, dined away from the rest, and eventually attended their own sermons."

"This is fascinating. And I assume you have a point."

Vanitas laughs, but his voice lacks any mirth. "My point is that they are not just legends." Roxas look up to him, nearly flinching at how close he is. Roxas' eyes are wide in curiosity. "They are an active organization of highly trained assassins who carry out assassination contracts. For those who wish to utilize their deadly services, they simply visit their headquarters located in a not so friendly part of town; though they do not actively recruit Faceless. They are a punishment, not an honor. Rumor says they only have three now, women who let their sex control their actions. Their faith in their dark lord, however, remains strong. So they priests put them separate from them, let them live and operate outside the temple. For years they remained obedient, performing tasks to further the cause of their god. And now . . ."

"They've font something . . ." Roxas says, figuring where the story is going. He looks at the seven in the picture on the last few pages, their bodies bathed in blood and darkness. "They've gone feral, haven't they?"

"Putting the entire temple in danger. Hence why we were sent to break the bust."

"Why didn't they call the Faceless?"

"They want to try and unite the other thieves of the city with the Faceless, hoping to have them join. Now rumor has it that one recently went to the temple, seeking to increase their numbers, as if it is a privilege to be a Faceless."

"You thinking that they can be hefty allies with my father's?" Roxas asks.

Vanitas shrugs. "I don't know. They pride themselves in being loners, as do you." Vanitas pushes off the ledge and strolls over to the workbenches. "It's nothing promising, but it's worth the shot. You never know."

"Exciting. Thank you." Roxas says as she continues to flip through the last few pages of the book. Vanitas gazes at him, the moonlight reflecting off his pale blonde hair. He brushes his bangs out of his face and his eyes flick left and right across the pages.

Vanitas fists his hand and furrows his brows. "How come you never wrote to me?"

Roxas grows still.

He couldn't tell if Vanitas is teasing, so the words burrow deeply beneath his skin. He suddenly feels like a kite sinking back towards earth after flying high on a gust of wind. He frowns and get off from the ledge of the window.

"What?" is all he manages to say.

"All those years I sent you letters, and you never replied. All I remember is that one visit we had and then, I never hear from you again. You don't come see me? You don't write?"

Roxas' demeanor changes as he hears the anger and aggravation and hurt in Vanitas' voice. He begins to take carefully steps - similar to if he was walking on egg shells, towards Vanitas.

"What are you talking about?"

Vanitas coldly laughs. "I mean, I thought that you just wanted nothing to do with me anymore."

"Vanitas, I was busy training with my father and his mentors! I'm going to be the heir to his empire! I didn't have the time to visit you!" Roxas argues.

Vanitas watches Roxas for a long moment before his shoulders hunch. He stares forward, out into the open space of the clocktower. "Well you're here now, and I think the least you now owe me is an explanation. So where the hell have you been?!" he yells.

Roxas is silent, studying Vanitas as he tries to figure out what had gone wrong. How is that they went from old friends to sudden, bitter arguing . . . spouses, almost. Like then the wife accuses the husband for coming home late from the pub, accusing him of cheating.

"I've been home." Roxas finally answers in a stern voice."

Vanitas looks to him, pain and a stone cold look of some undecipherable emotion in his eyes. His lips pressed into a tight line. "You were home." Vanitas repeats. He coldly chuckles again and runs his fingers through his hair. "Pssss . . . fine. Forget it."

He suddenly turns and heads down the steps.

"Vanitas." Roxas calls. His own tone annoyed yet calling to him to not leave, he follows Vanitas down the steps.

"Far be it for me to ask about where my only friend has been for the last five fucking years!" Vanitas shouts.

"If you're looking for an apology, you're not getting it. I have nothing to be sorry for!"

Vanitas glares at Roxas, and Roxas would've been scared if he hadn't seen scarier, that being his father.

"Really? Really?! You make he go through five years of shit and that's all you have to say?!" Vanitas hisses the words like venom. He swallows, strangling the impulse to strike at Roxas.

"Because I don't!" Roxas counters. "I didn't get your letters!" Roxas can feel himself trembling all over, like a time bomb.

Vanitas' expression suddenly changes. Like the flip of a switch, he goes from being angry and vicious, to sudden confusion and surprise. "What?"

Surprisingly, Roxas can almost feel his eyes water, but he blinks and they go away instantly. His own anger is starting to take over at Vanitas' sudden accession, but perhaps there's something they're both missing here. It has been five years.

"I . . . I didn't get your letters." Roxas repeats. They both now stand at the end of the stairs, next to Vanitas' bed.

"But . . . but that's impossible. I - I wrote you a thousand letters. But you never got back." Vanitas says.

Roxas shakes his head. He remembers asking his father for the first month after they got back from the Destiny Isles, if Vanitas had written to him, but his father said that it was delayed or that he didn't get anything at all . . .

"I . . . didn't get them. My father said that nothing came . . ." Roxas says and he nearly wants to slap himself when he hears his voice stuttering.

Vanitas looks to him, his anger is still there, but Roxas can tell that it's getting directed towards somewhere else. His lip snarls and he almost glances over Roxas' shoulder to indicate that it's no longer directed at him.

"That scum-sucking bastard -!"

"Don't you dare speak of my father's name in vain!" Roxas quickly defends.

"Are you serious, Roxas?! After all he's done, you're defending him?!" Vanitas yells.

"Yes! Because he's my father!"

"The man practically ruined our friendship just he can use you to hold power when he can't!"

"Vanitas! Jeez!" Roxas screams.

"He will starve you of friends and fun and even his own love! Just so he can use you as an extension of his power!" Vanitas says.

"Shut up!"

"Why?!" Vanitas challenges. "Because it's true?!"

"Because I don't care!"

Vanitas stares at Roxas as his words settle into the air.

"I know he pushes me, I know he doesn't show his love for me directly, but I know that I'm making him proud, even if he doesn't show it! But once I take over his place, he will show me his love and he will tell me he's proud! Whatever it takes to get his approval I will do it!" Roxas says.

"Roxas . . ." he nearly whispers.

"I'm not broken, Vanitas. I'm not bruised. I'm stronger than I've ever been! All the pain and the truth, I will wear like battle wounds. My father made me into a warrior! A survivor; in more ways than you know! I've got thicker skin and no one can ever hurt me!"

Roxas' eyes are glassy, but no tears spill over, and Vanitas hopes none do. He's never seen Roxas cry before, and if he is to witness it first hand, Vanitas doesn't know how he can handle it.

"There's a part of me I can't get back. The little boy who grew up too fast. But I'm strong. I can run faster, I can climb faster. I'm better than before." Roxas' voice is lowering, and it's starting to quaver.

"Roxas" Vanitas hushes quietly. "I never said he doesn't love you. I'm sure he does. I just don't approve of how he shows it -"

"You know nothing . . . about my father." Roxas says in a voice that speaks of Vanitas to watch his words. He glares at him. "And no one asked for your approval."

He turns his head away and Vanitas can feel his anger and the tension of the moment slowly deflating. For the first time, he thinks he might be seeing the vulnerable side of Roxas. A side that most assume was long gone or didn't even live in Roxas since the beginning of his training days with his father. He always put on a tough face and to stand tall, but now it's like the clock it turned back and Roxas is twelve again, sitting on his bed in his room waiting for his father to walk in and announce his punishment.

Vanitas has half the mind to hug him, and even if Roxas fights him off, he will wrap his arms around him and not let go.

He tries to feed this thought and takes a few steps towards Roxas, who now leans against the supplies trunk. Vanitas manages to get close to Roxas, but when he puts a hand on Roxas' shoulder, he shrugs it off abruptly as if it had scalded his skin.

Roxas doesn't look at Vanitas. "I want to go to bed." he says.

Vanitas pauses, debating whether to still follow through with his idea, but seeing Roxas and his iron gate guard clanging into place, he sighs in defeat. He scratches his head and sniffs.

"You can take the bed tonight." Vanitas says.

This strangely catches Roxas off guard as he looks to him in surprise and question.

"I've got to finish some things upstairs, so . . . I'll be a little late going to bed." Vanitas says.

He starts up the steps, and Roxas has half a mind to thank him, but he keeps his mouth shut, feeling as if the dry skin of it has sealed his mouth shut. Vanitas glances over the railing and peeks at Roxas as he takes off his cloak and cast it aside on the vanity.

As Roxas settles into the bed, he's pleased to feel it being a real mattress as opposed to a stack of hay covered with an animal pelt. He snuggles beneath a warm quilt and settles his head on the pillow. It smells like Vanitas; a smell of something sharp with jasmine, but firmly masculine.

An aching in his chest keeps Roxas staring at the wall for a few minutes. His eyes blink, and despite the dryness he feels inside them, he doesn't seem comfortable closing them; and this is more than just his training kicking in.

To settle it, Roxas draws his dagger and clutches it to his chest. He imagines killing the pain in his chest with a swift slash. It bleeds red and permeates his thoughts. The pain subdues, but he can still feel it there. Roxas tries to let the cold freeze it over and keeps his dagger close to his chest.

The next morning, Roxas' eyes flutter open. He immediately notices the difference in the lighting, meaning it's daytime. His eyes flick around the wall and he blinks, but it feels as if his bones have been replaced with led, his blood slowing it's course through his veins until it feels like molasses. Still, he shifts in bed and feels control regain.

He rolls to his other side and sees the sunlight pouring into the room with the giant glass clock face. The place has a soft glow to it, like when waking in a cottage in spring, and dust particles dance in and out of the beams, multiplying by the billions. The place seems to have lost its oldness to it, and it has almost been replaced with a warm and cozy, homey feeling towards it. Probably another reason why Vanitas picked it.

Roxas pushes to a sitting position, and when his arm aches from the pressure, he looks at his shoulder. Peeling back his tunic, he finds the gauze starting to turn a soft yellow color from the blood and sweat. He needs to change it soon.

He rolls his shoulders and sighs as he ruffles his hair. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, the wood floor feeling dusty under his bare feet. He looks around and then turns to look upstairs. He remembers Vanitas saying he had work to do.

Carefully Roxas prowls up the steps and looking out the one window on the front wall, he sees the foggy skyline of the city. From the sun's position, it's around eight o'clock. Most of the crew probably isn't even up yet, and safe to say won't be until noon when they've had time to cope with their headaches and have vomited up most of the ale they devoured the night before.

Turning his head he finds Vanitas sleeping on the desk. His head rests on his arms, his back hunched. Roxas approaches carefully and brushes a few hairs out of Vanitas' eyes. Seeing him sleep, he looks so relaxed younger. His eyes closed and relax, they appear charming and sweet as opposed to their glare and need Roxas sees in them when looking at wenches.

Roxas looks at the way he fell asleep. He looks around and blows out the candles Vanitas had left lit. Going back downstairs, Roxas stretches more and pulls on his cloak and boots.

But before he goes, he folds the quilt on the bed and carries it upstairs.

Draping it over Vanitas' shoulders, and tucking it around his legs, Roxas writes a short note, leaving it under Vaintas' fingers.

With one final look back, Roxas sighs.

"Goodbye, Vanitas. Thank you."