AN: Hey, I know this story has been going on for approximately forever. I had entertained a brief idea of rewriting it so it made sense but... then I realized that would be a waste. I think some of you readers appreciate it in the spirit it was written, which is pretty much: Sparkly-Naked-Whores-In-Space with some cameo-party on the side. So, I'll try to stop forgetting/worrying and just get it all uploaded/written/etc and I hope readers will just have fun with it even if it isn't a masterpiece to span the ages.

The day after Riku leaves him—his eyes lidded heavily with sorrow and the image of his beauty so forcefully burned into Sora's retinas… The day after, as Sora rises late in the afternoon, sluggish from another night of tossing and turning and fevered desire and debilitating loneliness…

The newspapers scream words of death.

Franz d'Epinay.

Sora feels his throat constrict.

Hears Kairi's words echo painfully.

"The Count is the nexus, I'm sure of it."

Sora knows that the Count of Monte Cristo is behind it; it's a sick realization, one that forces him to leave the room, searching out his clothing in a rush.

He's standing before the Morcerf Estates before he knows what's happened.

Eugénie is there and she smiles at him gently.

"Have you come to wish Albert happy birthday as well?" she chirrups.

Sora stills, blue eyes darting like a guilty child. His tongue sticks in his dry mouth. "Have you seen the paper today?"

She frowns, her pretty face molding well into the shape. She used to frown much more than she does nowadays.

"No, I didn't have a chance. I was finishing my song for Albert. Why?"

"Nothing. Nothing, really, w… what do you plan to do for his," Sora gulps, casting worried glances towards the house, as if he expects to see Albert's swinging corpse at any second. "What are your plans for today?"

"Franz said to meet with Albert at the café, we should hurry soon or we'll be late."

Sora blanches. He forces a smile onto his face even as tears gather in his eyes.

"I'll get him ready. You should go to the café and make sure that there will be plenty of cake."

She begins to refuse, but the brunet interrupts, his voice cracking dangerously.

"Please. I… have to speak with him first, it's important."

Her sapphire eyes glint distrust and her frown easily deepens, but something about the way he speaks convinces her. Perhaps it is the fact that carefree Sora has finally found something worthy of his fear.

She turns and once he is certain she has well and truly gone, he knocks on the door. It does not open for quite some time, but at length, one of Albert's bloodshot eyes peaks out through the cracked doorway.

"Sora."

"I know about Franz."

Albert yanks him inside, clinging to his silken shirt, sobbing and shaking.

Albert is a broken creature.

Albert's sunken eyes look up to him, without any cry for pity.

Only a shattered heart.

"It was supposed to be me," Albert whimpers, his lower lip quivering. "I challenged the Count to a duel. He used me! He used me to hurt everyone else. I was going to… It should have been… me…"

His confessions come spilling forth like blood, like vomit, like guilt.

Albert's tears run themselves dry.

"He was my best friend…"

Sora senses something terrible seizing up in his chest. "Happy Birthday, Albert. Congratulations on turning sixteen…"

Albert hiccups, his body collapsing to the floor.

"He did it for me…" he mouths.

"He loved you," Sora feels the right to say.

"I know," Albert says, dying with every word. "I know."

ﮚ

Sora awakens with a fearful jolt, his body sweating. The edge of his vision is being consumed by shadows and his breath is labored. Some unidentifiable sound forces its way past his lips and he hangs his head.

That.

That image of Albert: lost, wounded, destroyed, and forsaken. Dying with every sound he made.

That is what Sora runs from. What he fears more than anything else. He fears that when at last he can speak with Riku face to face, he will not be wanted. He will be left alone to curl in on himself. He fears he will be left to die.

Someone's hand descends upon his shoulder, Sora jerks back.

"Sora?" Axel's face comes into focus, his fire chasing away the dark.

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask."

"I'm fine."

Axel's face contorts slightly, pulling inwards anxiously, his fingers squeezing just a bit tighter, holding on. "Picked a weird time to fall asleep," he murmurs.

Sora nods blithely, trying to remember where he is.

He casts hurried little glances about the room, trying to tempt recognition.

"This is Reno's place."

Sora mumbles some sort of acceptance and begins to sit up.

His head whirls and he slumps back against the couch again.

He's on the floor for some reason, his back pressed painfully against the sharply crafted little feet.

His dreams return to him in a dizzy moment. They expand and continue in the blink of an eye, days reliving themselves in seconds.

Eugénie's wedding, rushed on after Franz's death. Danglars's disappearance, Villefort's trial, Cavalcanti's revenge, Morcerf's attack on Paris, watching the bombs fall from his high-rise, wondering if Riku wais safe…

Sora groans, covering his face with his hands, trying to still the quaking of his poor body.

"I am fine." He repeats, assuring no one, not even himself.

Reno's apartment is by no means a subdued place. It's a series of twisting, chopped up rooms covered in plastics as well as brocades, gaudy paisley as well as tasteful faux marbles. Reno's decorations seem indecisive amongst themselves, whether their intent is quirk, offense, or, possibly, well meaning murder of the senses.

It fits the man himself perfectly, Sora thinks, chuckling.

Reno renters the room, as if on cue.

"You're awake," he teases.

Sora can't quite remember why he's here, but he sheepishly gives assent of his consciousness. Reno advances and tussles his hair and runs his fingers down his neck and across his shoulders because he's been far too fresh since the beginning.

"And here he was hoping to get a piece of you," Axel drawls, hefting Sora up by the arms onto the couch beside him.

"Hey," Reno protests, his green eyes sparking with feigned irritation. "I wouldn't do anything to Sora if he were unconscious! I'm not a rapist, usually."

"Yeah, there are some kids on the First Floor who would beg to differ."

"They don't count."

Their bantering continues on at some length until Sora yawns helplessly, loudly. They glance at him and twin smirks, sharp and feral and wild and quite probably, a nod to the Northern blood they both share.

Axel picks him up in his arms like a bride and Reno playfully smacks his thigh.

"Looks like the kid needs to get to bed."

Sora's eyes refuse to stay open… he realizes he doesn't have it in him to protest. He realizes that going back to Axel's rooms and sleeping sounds wonderful. He'll have to take care of things tomorrow.

ﮚ

Inara is at breakfast and, for some reason, so is Larxene. Though, it does not take Sora long to deduce just what this reason is. There's a beautiful girl seated quietly between them. She looks to be human, very delicate and Eastern, but her neon eyes—the color of water—exhibit her alien blood.

Inara glances up when Sora and Axel enter the room, she smiles politely and offers to introduce them, as they have not yet met her new charge, no doubt. Larxene bristles, crossing her arms over her breasts and throwing one bare leg over the other.

"You are insufferably smug, aren't you, Serra?"

"This is Sayuri, I'm going to be taking her back with me for training." The Companion retains her poise, ignoring Larxene entirely. The girl next to her shrinks away from her own introduction, even while she rises from her seat in order to bow. She has acquired clothing from somewhere, probably from Inara herself. The blue fabric is terribly complimentary of her black hair and glowing eyes.

Sora and Axel both greet her, keeping their distance from Larxene as they get their breakfasts. Not that the efforts are worth anything, Larxene is lashing out at everyone in the room. She quickly insults Axel to gain his attention; she attempts the same tactic on Sora. However,

"I need to go talk to Roxas for a bit," Sora announces quietly.

Axel tries to stop him, but the brunet exits the room swiftly, leaving his food behind.

Sora is quick in navigating the halls, praying silently to himself all the while that Roxas will be in his quarters. The door is shut upon arrival, so Sora has no choice but to press the bell, to wait and to see.

He's left idling in the hall so long he almost gives up, but then the door hisses open and Roxas's pretty face peeks out into the doorway. Sora realizes, as he admires the other man, that he has not glimpsed Roxas for nearly a week. He has had him in his thoughts all the while, but finally being faced with him once again is pleasant beyond what he thinks words can express.

"Hello," Roxas greets warily, opening the door further to admit him.

Sora smiles. "I've missed you."

The blond appears startled by his words, he blinks rapidly, as if this should be a dream and one of these times Sora will disappear altogether.

"Have you?" Roxas inquires, motioning absentmindedly towards the bed. Sora sits on its edge and continues to smile despite himself.

"I do have something important to tell you, but first, how have you been?" Sora wonders, unable to shake off years of ingrained social niceties.

Roxas is much less inclined to humor him. "Fine, what do you need?"

Sora flashes him a wide-eyed look, begging him for extrapolation, something which Roxas has no intention of giving.

"What do you need?" the blond repeats again.

His friend shakes his head in disbelief but leaves his question to the grave, he knows the answer anyway: knows things are never well for Roxas, but the man does the best he can.

Sora allows himself a little bit of laughter before biting the bullet and pressing on. "I wanted to talk to you about Axel."

Roxas seizes up a little and purposefully does not look at Sora as he busies himself picking a few scattered scraps of clothing off the floor.

"What about Axel?" His reply is soft, difficult to hear. If Sora hears him the conversation will proceed.

The disowned aristocrat understands and perhaps sympathizes with Roxas, but desires more strongly to help him.

"How you feel about him."

Number XIII lets out a bark of shocked laughter. "I think we've made our feelings for each other abundantly clear."

Sora tilts his head to the side in a sort of indulgence. He had expected this and is pleased to see that his analysis of this situation has thus far been correct, though, now is when he should proceed with caution.

"I know that he's… he's a little bit frightened of you, but I think he cares about you nonetheless."

"What makes you say that?" Roxas sounds like he's choking on something; Sora politely keeps his eyes to himself.

"A friend of mine once said that feelings like hatred always start out by caring for someone."

"He's a fool."

"Yes, he's dead now."

"Good." Roxas gives the impression that he actually means it; he acts like the death dealer Sora knows he has been forced to be in the past. He recognizes all the signs of someone gone numb with pain.

"I think you care for Axel too."

"You're wrong."

"You don't sound convinced."

"You're wrong!"

"I think you love him," Sora suggest softly. "I think I've heard some things and I've seen some things. I think you love him, but the both of you are too scared to admit it. I think you worry one day he'll be taken from you and I think he worries one day you'll have to kill again, maybe it will be him and you won't hesitate."

Roxas grabs him by the shoulders, thin fingers digging into his flesh. The man's arms are shaking and his jaw is clenched. He forces Sora to look, forces Sora to see just what it is he has unearthed. Roxas wants him to regret it, but Sora doesn't. He thinks this display of emotion is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen gracing Roxas's pale face.

"Who told you?" Roxas's voice crackles. "Who told you."
"Axel did."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I asked. Because I care about you and Axel, and everyone else who has been kind to me here. Because I wanted to know why you were all hurt so badly."

"You shouldn't have."

"I know."

Roxas releases him, so Sora takes him into his arms and holds. He is reminded fully of what he had seen: the way Roxas had been so controlled by Luxord, so chained. He wonders about it, wonders just what happened in the Outreaches to cause that sort of beaten, broken, obedience.

"You shouldn't have," Roxas murmurs again against his collarbone, tears and spit coalescing slick and shiny on Sora's flesh.

"Tell me how you really feel about Axel, tell me why you hide it."

"You already know. Why are you asking."

"I want to see if you know."

"I… I love him. He and Demyx were the only friends I'd ever had… Do you. Do you even know what that means to me?! But when we got here and I killed those people, they were scared of me. They were scared and they were angry because I wasn't sorry. They didn't like knowing that I didn't feel any guilt. They're hypocrites, I did it for them, they had no problem with it… but there was something about me and not… not changing me, but it's changed everything."

Axel and Roxas would be so wholly right for each other, Sora reflects. One is loud and brash, burning everything around him, forcing it to be reborn, stronger than before. The other is that of silent poise, thought and wit and a heavy hand with which to keep Axel in line. What one lacks the other balances; a story of opposites. The aristos in Sora appreciates the symmetry.

Sora pets Roxas's hair; it's a pretty white gold color and is very soft under the pads of his fingers. This is what he has surmised, and now that everything has been confirmed, he has plans to fix it all. Somehow, eventually, his own goals will be obtained, but he excels in being selfless. This cause calls to him more strongly.

"It's because they care for you. They didn't enjoy seeing you stained with blood, they didn't want you to lose yourself."

"You know that for sure?"

"I've been right so far."

Roxas is quiet for a time, leaning against him, half on the bed and half on top of Sora. He shifts slightly, pressing their mouths together briefly in a sort of wordless thank you or possibly a saline apology.

"I don't mind fighting with him for just a little bit of his light, I don't mind if he hates me, because I can still love him, even if…"

"I think he cares too, I think that's why he's still here."

Roxas's eyes are beautiful and shining as they brim with tears. "He's here because if he betrays us he won't just be sent back to the Junkyard, they'll send him to Château d'If."

Château d'If: the War Machine patrolling the dangerous border of Reaver Space. It's also a prison; its captives' minds are used to fuel its mainframe. It's a cruel hell where one is never allowed to die and many a man has lost his mind within the confines of his cell. It is the self same place where the innocent Edmond Dantes's fate was forever changed.

Such a terrible threat could, Sora admits, very well be the true reason behind Axel's obedience, though he thinks not. Axel's behavior is more resignation and arrogance than fear.

"Why don't the rest of you join together against Xemnas?"

Roxas puts a hand over his mouth, his eyes growing large. Sora quickly understands that Xemnas is not a name he should implicate. He waits patiently for Roxas to explain.

"The others don't have to go through this. There are some clients they choose, but it is only the Oblivion and me who are forced."

The tribe name explains everything, clearly lays out the hierarchy here. That is why Vexen was so angry when Roxas became ill. The Castle has a reputation to protect, and if one of their high quality prostitutes failed to meet an appointment it would reflect badly. Vexen had been unhappy to take on the responsibility, one he was satisfied to shove onto someone he deemed lesser and--

"Roxas, you've suffered enough," Sora soothes. He feels Roxas's sharp intake of breath and supposes that to be a subtle enough method to make clear what he saw. Or, perhaps, it's a way of proposing that he take Luxord's place as Roxas's pillar of support.

"Thank you." Roxas accepts it, allows himself a little hope after all this time.

"I'll help you with this, I promise."

"Thank you…"

Roxas stays there a while, breathing quietly, his eyes shut placidly.

Sora hopes desperately that he will not disappoint.

No, he does not even allow himself to consider it.

ﮚ

On the way back to finding Axel, a man, who Sora can only assume is a client, passes him by. It is only worthy of note in that the man stares at him quite blatantly. Though, honestly, it is not the first time for such an occurrence.

Sora has a theory that these visitors are the true reason none of them usually care to wear clothes. He can almost hear Xemnas's dripping-honey voice explaining to the whores just what their place in life was,

When we invite clients here, what do you think will entice them back? Good service, yes, but what about good memories… what sort of things should they see here on their way to their rendezvous, hmm?

The only other thought Sora allows the visitor is that he hopes he is not one of Roxas's clients. If Sora could have his way, Roxas would never have another client again. But, for the time being, there are a few things Sora needs to accomplish.

The first is to find Naminé, but he has no idea if she even lives inside the Castle or not, so Sora deduces he must ask Axel for this information.

He finds the redhead asleep in his room, which judging by the time is more surprising than it should be. The sleeping schedule is turned entirely around, even though it is nearly midnight, most everyone else is wide awake.

Sora prods his friend's ribs gently, considering whether or not any of the bruises Saïx had given him yet remain. As Axel does not rouse, Sora determines not.

"Axel," he says, demandingly.

His mentor continues to dream; Sora is certain he does not want to know of what. So he leaves the man be, and hopes against hope that he will be able find another person with the knowledge he seeks. He wishes he could go to Roxas, but he wants this to be special, a surprise even. He realizes how juvenile that comes across, but he has always been predisposed to such things. He likes to be friendly, he likes to take the most straightforward route after he analyzes the problem.

That's how things are with Riku, why he is here. He figured out the issue, what he lacked in order to reach his goal and took the fastest route to meet his needs. Though, he did not anticipate the complications that would arise upon befriending the Thirteen.

So he wanders the halls once more, Demyx scurries past on his way out, Larxene sulks as she goes by, and Marluxia… Sora swallows when he recognizes him, steadying his nerves.

"Pardon me," he murmurs with all the grace he can muster.

Standard Disclaimers for Kingdom Hearts, Firefly/Serenity, Gankutsuou, (The Count of Monte Cristo is Public Domain), and Memoirs of a Geisha.