Naminé woke to the sound of sirens. Groggily, limbs stiff, she returned to consciousness to peer out of the window and see an ambulance outside the house. Larxene, for her part, groaned some obscenity along the lines of "shut the fuck up" and rolled over. So much for helpful.
Naminé hurried downstairs to see Vexen, pale as milk, sodden and bloodstained, be loaded onto a stretcher by two professionals. Marluxia was already in the doorway, expression dark.
"What happened?"
"He's broken at least two ribs, and his left arm and leg."
"H-how?"
"I'm guessing that he slipped on a patch of grass last night and fell down the scree over the valley. He was lucky he hit the tree, otherwise he would probably be dead at the bottom of the river by now."
Naminé paled as the paramedics checked Vexen over. He looked even less alive than usual, eyelids fluttering in delirious unconsciousness and breath shallow.
"Why was he out there in the first place?"
Marluxia glanced over to give her a steely glare.
"I'd say he was looking for something. Or someone."
For all the unspoken accusations, Naminé had no reply. Marluxia sighed a little to himself.
"You go in the ambulance. I'll catch you up in the car."
"What about Larxene?" Naminé asked as she tugged on her shoes. Vexen was being hurried into the ambulance, paramedics everywhere asking questions and performing tests. Marluxia answered them all with straightforward professionalism and nothing more. Not even the attractive blonde woman with more cleavage than she clearly knew what to do with.
"She can survive a hangover without you. Get in the ambulance."
Naminé could do nothing but comply. The doors were closed on her and she was left to the paramedics and Vexen, cold to the touch and deathly white.
"Is he going to be alright?" She found herself asking distantly as an oxygen mask was applied to his face, needles pressed into his arms and an IV drip to his elbow.
"He'll live," One of the paramedics told her as he worked. "Aside from numerous grazes, most of his injuries were closed. He hasn't lost too much blood."
Naminé didn't understand much as they briefly explained the damage, but she nodded anyway, watching with a morbid interest the procedures as they approached the hospital. There was nothing else to do. Occasionally, she convinced her fists to loosen their grip on her trouser fabric a little. She half hoped Vexen would wake up, open his eyes for a convincing flash of brilliant green just to give a little colour to his body, but he was a dead weight even after they wheeled him into a ward to crack his bones back into place. She waited outside in an ergonomic failure trying to pass as an orange chair. After fifteen minutes Marluxia, in a turtleneck that stretched taught across his impressive chest, joined her.
Immediately, Naminé wished he'd been stuck in traffic. She didn't want to talk to Marluxia. Not after last night. She wanted to check that Vexen was okay and then go home. Larxene would be better company than either of the two men. The silence between them was extensive, awkward. Marluxia conversed with a few passing nurses, collected a pair of drinks at a vendor. Naminé sat with painful rigidity and waited anxiously to be allowed into the ward.
"How did you find him?" She eventually asked when the tension became almost too much to bear. "The limestone's all the way over the other side of the valley."
Marluxia glanced over.
"I noticed him running after you last night."
Naminé focused on fiddling with a loose thread in her trouser leg. Marluxia's tone was not accusing: it was flat. Too flat.
"He lied to me," She whispered, voice choked. "Why would he do that? I would have understood."
Marluxia leaned back on his chair, watching an old woman be wheeled past on her bed.
"Vexen has a lot of issues with himself, Naminé. Sometimes you have to cut him some slack and take him as he is."
Just then, the doctor slipped out; Naminé had no more time to do anything but mull over Marluxia's comment as the two of them were lead inside. Vexen was there on the hospital bed, pale but breathing steadily through an oxygen mask, his left leg elevated and covered by a clinical blue and white splint. A bandage held his hair rather inelegantly out of his face. Helpless and exposed, he looked almost young.
"Why do horrible things always happen to Vexen," Naminé murmured numbly. Marluxia simply laid a warm, heavy hand on her shoulder and said nothing. "Will he wake up?"
"He needs to rest."
"He was looking for me," Naminé found herself whispering, head shaking in disbelief. "He was looking for me and look what happened to him. How long was he out there for?"
Behind her, Marluxia was a silent body guard. They watched Vexen sleep for a few minutes then awkwardly slipped away.
"I should buy him a card."
"Why don't you make him one?"
"That's a good idea."
They wove through parked cars and milling patients until they reached the corner of the overflow car park and there was the most gorgeous car Naminé had ever seen. She didn't even know why she was surprised; Marluxia was rich and flamboyant, he would have the sleekest, most aerodynamically perfect car ever designed. But it just didn't fit in in a state hospital car park, beside hefty people carriers and smart, functional ambulances.
Marluxia, sensing her awe, chuckled a little, opening the passenger door for her.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" He said as she slipped into the leather interior.
"Wow..."
Marluxia slid easily into the driver's seat and the ignition automatically hummed to life, incar screens and dials lighting up.
"I don't usually use this car," He said as he rolled out of the car park - and Naminé could feel eyes of passersby on her - "But the Jaguar needed repainting and the Mercedes has a flat tyre."
Naminé remembered the Mercedes. It was Marluxia's everyday car, the one he used for mundane journeys with doors that opened upwards and people would kill to own.
"I didn't know you had more than one car," She commented, unsure what to say. Funny, when Larxene had said "rich", before Marluxia had even slid fluidly into her life, she'd thought that he was a well off city worker, a banker or salesman. She hadn't realised that Marluxia was going to be so stupendously wealthy.
It made her wonder where on Earth Larxene had even met him.
"My brother had a bit of a thing for cars," Marluxia replied smoothly. "He collected them. I feel as though I ought to honour him. So yes, I do have a couple."
"I didn't know you had a brother," Naminé found herself saying in surprise. Marluxia glanced at her briefly, but his focus soon returned to the road, minute twitches of his hands translating into perfect curves in the car's tyres.
"I don't any more," He finally murmured.
The rest of the journey was conducted in silence.

When they arrived home, Marluxia let her in at the door and then disappeared again. Naminé felt a little bad; Marluxia had never mentioned his family before and now it seemed like there was a reason why. For whatever reason, she imagined two young men, close friends, and a car accident that only one of them walked away from.
Larxene was awake now, curled in agony over a steaming mug of coffee. She had nothing more than a grunt for Naminé as the younger girl entered the kitchen - until Naminé pulled a packet of painkillers from the medical cupboard and warmed a glass of water, drizzling lemon juice and honey into it.
"Thanks, sweetheart."
Larxene's voice was hoarse, a shadow of her usual sharp tones. And her eyes were dull, sunken in hung over sullenness. Naminé gently rubbed her back until she'd finished the coffee and downed the paracetamol.
"You should go back to bed," She eventually whispered as she tidied crockery away. Larxene shook her head.
"Not lying around like a lonely fucker all day. Where's Marluxia?"
Naminé shrugged.
"He's out in the car somewhere."
"Vexen?"
Naminé hesitated for several seconds, enough for Larxene to glance up in questioning silence.
"He had to go to hospital," She admitted. "He fell over and broke his leg."
She left it at that. Larxene snorted, shaking her head until she winced.
"Ouch. And I thought my morning was bad."
Naminé sat down opposite her at the table, pulled over one of her glossy magazines and skimmed through the articles.
"How much of last night do you remember, anyway?"
"I don't even know how I got home," Larxene replied with a short laugh. Naminé sighed a little. So Larxene didn't even have any recollection of her fit last night; maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she really didn't know what she was talking about, she'd just been so drunk that anything could have spewed out of her mouth.
And Vexen might not have even slept with Marluxia.
Suddenly Naminé felt like she'd horribly overreacted. But the way he'd replied last night, the way Marluxia spoke to her as they watched Vexen in exhausted rest at the hospital... No. Larxene was right. Whether she'd meant to be or not.
"Hey, Larxene..."
- But she'd ask later, when Larxene was alive to the world and she'd summoned up a little courage.
"Uh huh?"
"I... how are you feeling?"
"Like a ton of shit fell on me last night," Larxene replied bluntly. "And a huge cock. Jesus."
Naminé coloured a little.
"You know, I... Well, speaking of that. I mean, not huge, but. Well. I wouldn't know, it could be, but-"
"Yeah, yeah, before you get your knickers in a twist. You and Vexen, I heard."
"I wanted to tell you face to face," Naminé whispered hopelessly. "But. I don't think it's going to happen again anyway."
"Oh?"
"Well. We had an argument."
Larxene rolled her eyes and returned to staring morosely at her place mat. The floral designs, once gaudy in their hues, were faded and stained to a sepia tone.
"Yeah, that does have a tendency to ruin everything."
Naminé unwittingly recalled last night's accusations and insults. How much of that had been the product of a drunken stupor - and how much previously unspoken truth?
"Except he's in hospital now."
"Wanker."
"Don't be mean. He was badly injured."
"What did he do, trip over his huge feet and fall down the stairs?"
"I'm not sure," Naminé lied. "I didn't know until he was being carted away this morning."
The conversation lulled to a natural halt. It was Larxene who spoke next, a sardonic smirk on her lips.
"You know, you've talked to me more in the last five minutes than this entire month combined."
When Naminé looked up, she saw Larxene differently: or maybe the same, the same as before drunken screams and before Marluxia and before Vexen.
"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I just..."
"Things have been hectic, yeah, I know."
"Things have been Vexen," Naminé corrected. To her amazement, Larxene laughed.
"So... tedious, unlucky and generally fucked up?"
"Since he's not here, I'm going to resent that for him," Naminé replied smoothly. Larxene laughed again, standing to make another mug of coffee.
"I've missed you, kiddo."
Naminé found herself slipping from her chair to infiltrate Larxene's wiry arms with a hug. She was like a small, fiery warm Vexen, but tight like Marluxia and soft in ways that neither of the men could really quite be. She was Larxene, and she hugged like she had the intention of killing.
"Me too."
It was a long one that lasted until the kettle boiled and Larxene had to pull away for peripherals.
"You have to be nice to Vexen, though," Naminé said sternly.
"No way. That's impossible."
"I mean it. He's shaky enough as it is, he doesn't need you making him worse."
"Oh, come on," Larxene began. "He's not shaky- well. He kind of is, Jesus, what is up with the world?"
"He has less self confidence than... well, something with no self confidence." Naminé said, waving her hands a little like they'd help her explain. "But, you know, he's been at a loose end ever since he lost his job."
"Again?"
"No, it only happened once."
"But that was months ago."
"I know," Naminé said. "But I don't think it was just losing his job that disorientated him like that. I just don't know what else happened. He hasn't told me anything."
Larxene shrugged.
"Whatever."
And she grabbed her coffee, hugged Naminé one last time and headed for the door.
"I'm going back to bed."

It wasn't until after Naminé had eaten for the evening and receded to her room that she heard the front door click to Marluxia's return. She slipped out into the corridor to see him hanging up his coat and kicking off his shoes. He seemed tired, almost lethargic in his movements. He didn't seem to notice her at the top of the stairs so she politely coughed to attract his attention; startled, he straightened and snapped up.
"Naminé."
"Where were you all day?" Naminé asked, slipping down the stairs. Her hand ran down the banister, caught a few splinters in the old wood.
Marluxia simply shrugged, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it fluidly from his shoulders. Naminé stared: she couldn't help it. Marluxia was so beautiful, smooth and flawless, the arch of tight muscles laced across his tanned chest. He was the epitome of human perfection and he was standing half-naked three feet from Naminé's blushing cheeks.
"Here and there."
Naminé shuffled her feet, having to physically restrain her hands from flying to her mouth as Marluxia's fingers fell to his belt buckle; but he simply loosened it and left the waistline of his trousers hanging low around his hips.
"Um," Naminé began elegantly, failing to tear her eyes away from the revealed line of brown hair trailing down Marluxia's stomach.
"Yes?"
Marluxia swept past her, a hand catching the small of her back. She scuttled in time, two pattering steps to Marluxia's long stride. And he lead her into his bedroom where she found herself perched on his bed, focus firmly on the floor.
"There was something you wanted to say?"
Thoughts of last night, Larxene's accusations and Vexen's lack of denial, flew to the forefront of Naminé's mind.
"N-no. I don't think so."
She glanced up momentarily to see Marluxia in perfect nudity, facing away from her. Reddening furiously, she looked away - but she could still see in her periphery his feet padding towards her. But then he picked up a pair of silk drawstring pyjama trousers and slipped them on. Then the bed dipped beside her as he took a seat on the thick mattress.
"You're tense," He murmured, hands falling to her shoulders.
"I'm worried about Vexen," Naminé half-lied. Marluxia tutted a little as his fingers kneaded expertly against Naminé's muscles.
"He's in safe hands now."
Naminé shook her head, leaning back against Marluxia. She couldn't help it; she just naturally sank into him. She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him since the whole crisis with Vexen.
"I don't mean that," She said, although he was worried for his physical wellbeing as well, "I mean. He hasn't been right since... well, for ages."
Marluxia pulled her into his arms and pulled the feather duvet around them.
"He'll heal with time," He replied softly. "Let your mind rest for once."
Naminé wasn't so sure, but she nodded anyway.
"I don't know what to do," She admitted after a few minutes of easy silence. "I mean, I thought I really liked Vexen, but..."
Marluxia simply made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat, so Naminé continued. After the fist confession, it all just began to pour out. She couldn't stop herself; none of her friends knew about Vexen, Larxene was horribly biased... And Naminé really needed to get everything off her chest.
"Well, I just don't know any more. I mean, we're nothing alike, and he's too old for me anyway. I was sure it felt right before, but now... I don't know. I just don't know. I feel like there's a lot of very important things that he won't tell me, and how can I trust him if he's lying to me?"
At the end of the monologue, Naminé let out a little sigh and leaned back against Marluxia's chest. She wasn't quite sure how she'd ended up sitting between his legs but she felt comfortable there, surrounded by his warmth and comforted by the company.
"What do you think?"
Marluxia considered the question for some time.
"I think you should follow your heart," He said eventually.
"But I don't know what my heart wants," Naminé argued hopelessly. Marluxia chuckled a little, sweeping her blonde hair from her neck to gently kiss at the pale skin.
"Then I suggest you endeavour to find out."
Naminé glanced up at Marluxia, so close, so close. She hadn't expected the proximity to his lips and - just like Vexen in the bath - suddenly she felt warm skin against her in the softest of kisses.
Marluxia was smooth where Vexen was chapped, tasting slightly of papaya lip butter where Vexen was nothing more than the flavour of human. He sent waves of sensuality down her back where Vexen only murmured wordless gratitude, kissed easily and luxuriously where Vexen was tense to the point of desperation.
After a few moments of half-mindless bliss, Marluxia pulled away. He was smiling, but beneath the curve of his lips there was an almost melancholy sadness that Naminé did not miss.
"You're thinking about him, aren't you," He said lightly. Naminé flushed pink.
"M-Maybe."
Marluxia chuckled, finding her easily with his hands, rolling her onto her side where he shielded her in the dimming light. He kissed her lips, kissed her jaw, kissed her neck until her fingers clenched and her toes curled.
Vexen. Oh, God, Vexen, where was Vexen while Marluxia toyed with her so simply and she could not resist his touches? Where was Vexen to nervously set the record straight, where was Vexen to run after her in the night?
Naminé found her stomach cold, her body shivering despite Marluxia's warmth. She found his hands, prised them away, shied from his kisses.
"Stop," She managed to mumble weakly. "Stop, I don't want this. Not now."
She couldn't explain the fear that flashed momentarily inside her; Marluxia was not a threatening man, nor was he cruel: he would listen to her and understand her hesitation, surely. But for a few moments Naminé found herself trapped beneath his bulk, his perfect muscular body, fearful that she could not stop what had set in motion. Had she consented by returning his affections?
But Marluxia pulled away with another small smile, drew his arms around her and kissed her forehead and did nothing more. Apologetically, she returned the cuddle and buried her nose in the crook of his neck. Beneath a distinctly floral cologne and the smell of freshly cut grass she could just pick out Marluxia's natural scent, a clean warmth that resonated from his body.
"I'm sorry," She whispered into the gloom. "I panicked."
"It's natural," Marluxia murmured in reply. For a long while, nothing else was said.
"Do you think," Naminé continued eventually, "Do you think I could love him?"
"That's for you to decide, sweetheart,"
Naminé sighed a little, curling closer against Marluxia's chest, comforting arms and warm feet. She thought she'd elaborate but without knowing the truth, without knowing Vexen's story or hearing Marluxia's witness, she had nothing left to think. And she couldn't ask Marluxia, not as she lay against his clear skin and felt his heart beat just like any other human.
"Where did you come from?"
There was a slight movement as Marluxia shifted, as he brushed the hair from her cheek and kissed her once, twice, again.
"It doesn't matter," He whispered into her ear. "I'm never going back."