Disclaimer: Squaaaare. Eniiiix. And on occasion, Diiiiis. Neeeeey. Don't make me talk. I'm tired.

A/N: I swear to God, with each chapter, I think I've given up a little chunk of brain. I hate daylight savings. I missed a whole hour of sleep. How does an hour simply disappear? How?! I don't like it. This chapter was actually semi-easy to write, in the sense that I didn't have to claw the words from my head this time. Again, I'll stick in my own little disclaimer of 'it might be crap, if you think so, too, tell me why and I'll try to make the hurtness go away'. See? Load of utter bollocks. I'm drivelling. Gimme back my brain cells, leaches. And review, while you're at it. … :)

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I suppose the logical thing to do would have been to test my boundaries; namely, try and leave the room. It was feeling more like a prison cell with every human encounter I had, especially now that I knew where I was. But I was simply too weak. My head was in it, urging me to go, to see how far I'd get before they caught me, how they'd react to my impromptu wandering… Two things stopped me. My traitorous body, of course, although I was beginning to forgive it. I didn't know exactly what Demyx had been blathering on about, but from the sounds of it, this had been imposed upon me, and there was nothing I could do until I recovered. The other thing holding me back was the thought of Sora. If they were allowing him to stay on a good-behaviour bond, I wasn't going to be the one to mess things up for us. I just hoped, fearfully, that he was okay. Demyx had said he was, but… I needed to see him. I needed to know. It killed me that he was nearby somewhere, and I just couldn't get to him.

After Hojo left, I pulled myself back up onto the bed, nearly screaming in frustration as a wave of exhaustion swept over me. I couldn't function like this. I haven't been this physically useless since I was a child! I'm used to being the stronger one, the fast one, using my muscles to their full advantage, and here I was, crawling like an infant!

Sweating and panting, I shoved the hair out of my eyes and lay on my back, glaring at the roof of my containment room. My mind played through the conversation with Doctor Hojo, coming to rest on his parting shot - maybe you'd prefer talking to your boyfriend. After all, he's the reason you're here at all. What the heck did that mean? Sora was the reason I was here? How did he figure that? I just – I wished I could speak to So. Find out what happened, and why everything was so fuzzy when I tried to remember back. The last recollection I had was Cid's shop. The trunk of the car. The encounter with Yuffie – then nothing. Where had I gone between there and here? Was everyone okay?

I closed my eyes against the sting of angry tears, reached up to rub them away harshly. I was sick of this. Sick of not knowing what to do. Sick of being vulnerable. It didn't matter how far or fast I'd ran, how much effort Cloud and the others expended on my behalf, it didn't matter that Leon was dead – because in the end, here I was.

All for nothing, then.

I bit my knuckles, and fell into a listless, rage-filled sleep.

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There was no sense of time passage, in the manner of day turning into night, as the burning halogen lights never ceased their faint, vacant hum. If I hadn't been so permanently drained, I wouldn't have been able to rest at all. As it was, when I woke up this time, I was feeling distinctly less fresh than I previously had done. The constant illumination was irritating my eyes, seemed to pierce them. I wondered why it seemed brighter than it had the day before… if, in fact, night had been and gone. This was unnatural.

Today when I tried to rise, it was with something relating to ease. My muscles held me, despite the weakness that made them tremble. I held my shaking fingers up in front of my eyes, curled them into a fist so I wouldn't have to face their powerlessness.

Today, I was determined.

I shuffled carefully to the door, not quite trusting myself. I reached it, grabbed onto the wall to steady my legs. I felt a buzz of exhilaration. I was finally moving, recovering from whatever the hell they'd done to me. When the door opened a bare second later, I almost fell through it, gasping and catching myself on the frame, sagging. I looked up with wide eyes, to see yesterday's woman gazing at me with slight surprise, and an interested smile.

"I should have known. Doctor Hojo said you'd be walking today, and I didn't believe him. It just goes to show, one should never doubt a genius." She brushed past me, holding a tray containing a bowl of sludge that looked reminiscent of oatmeal. She didn't even bother to help me, leaving me to dig my blunt nails into the frame and drag myself back up to standing. I swayed in the doorway, watching as she placed the tray on the drawers, and turned to me. A fine eyebrow rose, as she looked me up and down. "Come over here and eat. Doctor Hojo wants to begin your examination this morning. It won't do to have you passing out or vomiting on him." I just stared, drifting back and forth like some kind of drunk. Her features turned impatient in the blink of an eye. "Come, now, before I grow irritated." It was like – being scolded by a controlling mother. The kind you'd expect to slap her child when it misbehaved, or even, when it didn't. I didn't like her.

"Who are you?" I asked. She eyed me imperiously.

"My name is Yunalesca. I am the Doctor's assistant, and am in charge of your well-being. I also moderate punishment and rewards. I suggest you come and do as I have said."

I hesitated, bit back the immediate mirroring arrogance my pride demanded I thrust in her cold, pretty face, and approached her. I was wary; I couldn't shake the feeling that, at any moment, she might snap and hit me. I wasn't strong enough to defend myself.

"When will I get to see Sora?" I asked.

"If you please the Doctor, I will decide whether you deserve to see him or not. It is all dependent upon you, Riku." It was the first time I had heard her say my name. The way it fell from her lips, it was like I was scum. I was infuriated, felt it building and burning in my chest, but kept it down. She was in charge of whether I got to see Sora or not. She would decide if I was deserving or not.

He was mine, damn it!

"Can you – please tell me… if he is all right?" I asked, forcing neutrality.

She sniffed. "The boy is fine, he is of no concern to me. Now, eat. Once you have finished, change into the clothing provided by the laboratory, you will find it in these drawers. Those clothes you're wearing will be disposed of."

"But they're mine," I couldn't keep from snapping. "I don't want them disposed of."

She regarded me coolly. "They belong to ShinRa. ShinRa will dress you from now on."

Sora, Sora, Sora, Sora.

"Fine," I gritted. She nodded once, then turned on heel and left the room, all the while oozing competence. The door clicked shut. She was going to become the bane of my existence, I could tell.

I suddenly slumped against the wall, gripping handfuls of hair, eyes wide. The weakness in my muscles leached into my spirit, dragging at it with hopelessness. They had me. I was here. I would… I would never see the sun again. Never see Destiny Island, or even Twilight Town… I choked out a sob. I would never get home, to any home, anywhere. I would never see Kairi. Tidus, Wakka, Selphie. Axel, Roxas. Cloud. Marlene.

I would never leave this place.

I sank to the floor, burying my nose into my knees, and let out a howl, muffled, torn. My sanity cracked with desperation and anguish. And Sora was here! They – had taken Sora. Oh, my God. Sora would never leave, either. I slid to the side, curling up into a ball, weeping noisily. It was too much. Too much to bear.

Aerith, my mind cried. I needed her now, not in Midgar, here, right here. I needed that soothing presence in my head telling me that it was all going to be okay. But… she was dead. Wasn't she? She couldn't help me, couldn't lead me from this place. I couldn't be saved.

Sora. It was Sora I had to cling to. Sora… he couldn't be saved, either. Neither of us could. But… I could be with him. And that – that would make it okay, wouldn't it? Me and Sora – we'd be okay together. I just… I just had to – behave. I had to do what they said, and – and eat, and change my clothes, and… and then I'd be with Sora again.

I had started shivering violently, from some inner force. I pushed up onto my arms, watching teardrops fall to the ground, sparkling in the light. I sighed harshly, pinched at my eyes, hissed, "Shut up! Stop it!"

I crawled to the drawers, opened the top one and pulled out the cloth within. They had me wearing all white, cotton pants, cotton shirt with a ShinRa logo on the breast. Fuck. I'd look like a ghost in this… I slowly stripped off, peeling each layer of clothing away knowing I'd most likely never see it again. No more jeans, no more jackets. No more worrying about looking good. No more grooming, no more impressions, no more – anything.

Shut up. Stop it.

I pulled on the ShinRa regulation items, crisp and loose. Against my pale colouring, it made me look ethereal. Slowly, I folded my jeans, running my hands over the rough denim, folded my black zip-up tank, the one that Sora had always said made me look sexy and mysterious, folded up the yellow vest, fighting for air. I held them, feeling their weight, the history clinging to their threads. Then I threw them, with a hoarse scream, wishing they were glass, wishing they were porcelain, wishing they would shatter and fragment and be broken in reality like reality was breaking in my mind. My eyes landed on the tray, the bowl of oatmeal. I snatched it up, staring down at it, chest heaving. Damn it, it was oatmeal. Not a fucking symbol of my incarceration, just a bowl of fucking sludge.

And – haha. Ha. I was afraid to throw it.

I had to eat it, and keep it down. Otherwise… no Sora.

I retreated to the bed, sat blankly, holding the warm bowl on my knees, the heat seeping through the thin white material. I picked up the spoon with my endlessly shaking fingers.

I ate my sludge.

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Evil Bitch number one came back after an hour. She glanced at me, nodded at my attire, inspected the bowl, scribbled something in her notebook. I wondered if I'd just got a gold star beside my name. Fucking bitch.

I sat on the bed glowering, which she ignored.

"Doctor Hojo is waiting. You will follow me to the interview room." She left, expecting me to follow, which I did, trembling a little less than before, resentfully acknowledging the food as the reason. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten before it. My stomach, even if nothing else agreed, was happy.

The world that existed outside of my cell was a narrow corridor with steel light fittings and more white walls. I felt spectral, finding it unnervingly difficult to separate myself from the colour scheme and be individual. Evil Bitch led me down a second hallway, and into another small room, identical to my sleeping quarters in dimension, but with a table instead of a bed, two metal chairs, one of which was occupied.

"Doctor, subject Riku is here for the interview," I was introduced. Hojo was gazing at me steadily, already well aware of the fact that, yes, I was in the room. His eyes glinted with something sickening.

"Riku, sit." I felt like a dog. Seething quietly, keeping it far from the surface of my eyes, I accepted the proffered chair and folded into it, hands lying limply on the table in front of me, to keep from forming fists. Subject Riku. Fucking – fucking –

"Yunalesca, that will be all, thank you. I expect a compilation of your notes by noon."

"Yes, Doctor." The door clicked shut, leaving me in the small room with the oppressive man, his sharp eyes sucking something out of me.

"Well now, Riku," he said, into the growing silence. "I trust you've had time to come to terms with your situation, that which you know of it. How about you tell me your thoughts?"

It was like being with Penumbra, though I'd never thought I'd appreciate the man like I suddenly did in that moment. Back then, there was no fear, only confusion. Even despite that, I had been confident that things would be okay. It was surreal to connect myself with that version of me. As if that Riku were the never-Riku, and I was only now waking up.

"My thoughts…" I muttered. I slouched in my chair, hands clasped between my thighs, eyes averted from his. "I'm in ShinRa labs. And so is Sora. And I want to see him."

"See him you shall, if we are pleased with your progress. I am more interested in your thoughts regarding why you think you're here."

Because I'm from another world and you want to dissect me. "I don't know."

A glimmer of amusement entered his voice. "Now, Riku, no lies. A boy who knows nothing, fears nothing. If you don't know why we want you, why did you run so very impressively?"

"People with guns came and shot up my school," I said sharply. "A lot of people ran."

Hojo appeared to muse this. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But I know of no others, not even your young friend, who ran directly into the bosom of what was once the heart of our research team."

I went cold. Was he trying to make a play on words, alluding to Tifa, or what? Did he think he was witty, or was he just talking about Cloud and the others as a whole? I hoped Marlene and Denzel were safe.

I forced myself to speak, refusing to incriminate anyone. "I don't know what you're talking about." They never saw me with Cloud. Never found me in Edge. He didn't know.

He eyed me, smiling faintly. "You don't? Well, then, I suppose there's no point talking about it." I blinked. He leaned forward, making me sway back an instinctive inch. The sudden twitch in his smile told me that he'd noticed. "Since you have no information for me," he said silkily, "why don't I enlighten you a little, Riku?"

My heart beat faster, eyebrows drawn slightly, a deeply unsettled anticipation rising in my gut. He had the look of someone holding all the aces, from both his deck and mine. God, don't tell me anyone got hurt.

He began: "I understand that at this point, you are probably feeling that ShinRa labs are not somewhere you'd like to be. That perhaps there is hope for you – escape, hmm? Or someone on the outside – the mayor of your little island." I jolted. He knew where I was from. "You are thinking that, since you had such a long window of time in which to establish yourself as a member of this planet, there will be people searching for you?" He leaned ever further, upper body bending over the table, dark eyes glittering. "There is no hope." His soft voice bounced off the walls. "None for you. Nobody is searching; they are too busy, mourning your deaths." My eyes widened. "You and your spike-haired friend's. It has been staged, and believed, Riku. As far as the world outside this facility is concerned, you boys drowned three days ago, while running away back to home…"

I stared, parted my lips to utter, "Bodies."

Hojo sat back, folding his hands together, and responded calmly, "Have been arranged."

I blinked. Bodies – had been arranged? But…

He watched my dawning horror, nodded slowly in approval. "So you see… Nobody is coming for you. You don't exist here anymore… Not that you did in the first place."

My nails dug into the thin skin of my knuckles. I lowered my gaze to my left knee, struggled desperately for perspective. Sora, Sora, Sora, Sora…

"If you try to escape, you will be captured and severely punished. If you do escape, you will be hunted down and shot."

I closed my eyes. Sora, Sora, Sora, Sora –

"Did Cloud ever tell you about that part? It doesn't look like he did. Once, he and the others would have been part of this, you know. Arranging your apparent deaths… ensuring you were a prisoner here for life… with perks, of course." He nodded once, closed his eyes briefly, as though I should be reassured. "If you behave, if you co-operate, this needn't be anything more than an extended incarceration." His glinting eyes found mine again. "I don't need to make this place your hell, yet, Riku. Not unless you give me reason to." He allowed this to sink in. "How do you feel about Cloud, now?"

I felt… like he should have warned me when he had the chance. But that was what Hojo wanted me to feel. He wanted me angry, raging, demanding, why Cloud didn't tell me, why he didn't fight harder for me.

I would not be manipulated. To give him credit, he didn't know that I was both a manipulator myself in many ways, or at least have been, and that I have been manipulated already, by one of the best. This is what comes from never allowing lies to yourself. Truth is seeing through the anger, and knowing what is best.

My eyes ticked up to his, smouldering, hard. Some section of him took note, grew wary.

"What does Cloud have to do with anything?" I asked, voice cutting the air. "He's my music teacher. I don't understand." You sick, disgusting fuck.

He smirked, just a little, and in that moment, I knew that he knew. He knew, somehow, that I had been to Cloud's place in Edge. Had the Turks got to Tifa? Had they threatened the kids somehow? It didn't matter. He knew that, before whatever happened after I passed out in Yuffie's car, I had been with Cloud. He knew I was resisting. Did this mean I wasn't behaving?

He seemed to shrug. "Very well, then…" He left the subject alone. The rest of the session was an interrogation, as he drew from me every piece of information I would give about my world, explaining to me in short, succinct sentences the theory behind the existence of his own, the world of the nevers. I obviously left gaping holes, where my experiences in and with the darkness were concerned, and my relation to the keyblade.

I remembered Leon's reaction, when I told him at the school – that wasn't an ignorant, you're a what? It was an astounded, freaking-out exclamation. Like maybe, I'd just made things really, really bad with my admission. These people knew about keyblades, one way or another. I wouldn't reveal myself, until I learned more.

Fortunately, the gaps in my narrative were known only to me. He wasn't asking for the story of my life, he wanted to know about the differences between our worlds, particularly since I had got such a close view of this world's Destiny Island before leaving for Twilight Town. I wanted to know more about this patched together world, about the existence of the identical personalities that littered it, as though this had been a recent thing, as if someone had made a cookie-cutter of my own reality in the last twenty years or so. Or could lives run so very similarly between us that the same people got together and had children in both realities? Was it just art imitating life?

As I spoke, droning on as best as I could, I suddenly realised – Demyx was a subject here. He wasn't from this world. And Zexion, Six, because there can't be another person possessing that name in such close contact with Nine – he, too, was an other-worlder. So… there were – multiple realities? Six and Nine were dead, much the same as Eight, with Thirteen merged in Sora. Axel and Roxas lived on this world. Demyx and Zexion had come from another world – the same world? Had they come together? No – Demyx had said… I was bewildered. Threads of understanding I thought I held were snapping out of my hand and out of reach. Things were – larger than my mind could handle.

Hojo noticed my gradual distraction, and called a halt to the questioning. For a long while, he scrutinised me, content to let silence stretch between us, while I concentrated on not losing my mind to the limitless possibilities of creation.

"Very well," he said at last, quietly. "I can see that we've covered today all that we're going to." He gathered his collection of scrawled-upon papers, tidying them and slipping them into a folder. He stood. "I feel that we have made progress, Riku. I look forward to working with you again." I stared, unable to quite keep back my incredulity. "I will have Yunalesca come and take you back to your quarters."

"Do I get to see Sora?"

He paused. "You're… very attached to that boy." My nails found my palms. "Yes," Hojo said musingly. "I'm sure we can allow it. After all – the happier you are, the more inclined you'll be to co-operate… Yes, very well. I shall inform Yunalesca." He was gone, the door clicking in his wake, leaving me to my dread, and growing relief and excitement.

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Demyx came into my room. My head shot up, eyes wide, as I sat cross-legged on the small bed. My heart wrenched in my chest, first with hope, then with crushing disappointment. "Please… Don't tell me they changed their minds," I croaked. He smiled, hands on hips, yet again shirtless.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" He shook his head at my expression. "I'm here to take you to him."

My head dropped, hands covering my face. I nodded once, then pulled myself together and slid from the bed. I took a deep breath. "Please. Hurry."

He went around behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders, and steered me from the room, turning me to the right, the opposite direction to where I had gone last time with Yunalesca. For a few minutes, he pushed me through a small maze of corridors, all identical, until we reached a door and stopped.

"This is where me and Zexy live," he explained. "We're taking care of Sora. He sleeps on our couch!"

Processing this odd bit of information, I stood dumbly as he opened the door, and shoved me in. Their 'apartment' was just like my room, but their bed was a double, and there was a second door leading into another room, and a third door leading to a small bathroom, both adjacent to the main containment cell. The section of the apartment containing the bed was empty. I heard voices coming from the next room over, quiet. Feet moving of their own accord, I paused at the entrance as a soft laugh echoed out to me. Something hard and painful in my chest subsided in that one moment, blown away by a single breath.

I just stood there, staring at the top of his head, his back to me as he sat on the brown couch. Six sat beside him, lounging against the arm as he quietly recounted whatever was amusing my love.

Demyx came and wrapped his arms around me from behind, chin planting on my shoulder, making me stiffen and jerk my head to the side. He pivoted his neck, chin still in place, and smiled at me. "There's our guys," he said softly, then turned to look back at them. Zexion heard, and twisted to look, leaving Sora wondering why he wasn't talking anymore. He turned curiously, and saw me. He froze.

Demyx released me, backing off a few steps. I swallowed, and entered the room, glancing over at Zexion, who nodded mildly at me. I turned my gaze back to Sora, shuffling around to the front of the sofa. His head turned to follow me, his expression locked in place. I hesitated. He didn't look… happy to see me.

All at once, I didn't know what to do. I had expected – more than this. I had expected – joy. He looked trapped. All the words of love I'd wanted to proclaim shrivelled on my tongue, leaving me momentarily speechless. At last, I said, "I'm sorry, So." His eyes widened slightly. "I – This is all my fault, and… I'm sorry."

His gaze fell from my face, head twisting to look forward, staring perplexedly at the wall.

"But…" I watched him, pained, waiting. He shook his head, lips pressed together. Remorse tore at me, chipping pieces from my heart, as tears welled and fell from his eyes. He lowered his face, drew in a few breaths. "But it was me," he said, voice small. "This is – it's my fault. I…" His eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenching. "I gave you to them."

I stared. "Sora?"

He bent, elbows on knees, and gently gripped handfuls of hair, tugging. "I gave you to them," he muttered. "You were dying, so I let them take you. I didn't try to stop them. I – gave you to him." He let out a sudden, panting sob. "I let him take you from my arms. I – " His voice cracked, broke, finished. Zexion was up, on his way out of the room, his eyes on me. I met them briefly, stunned, and they narrowed at me, his step slowing for a second. He tipped his head curtly at Sora, gave me one last hard look, then went into the bedroom, leaving us alone.

"Sora?" I said again, stupidly, trying to figure out his words. As if it was hard to do. "You…"

"You were dying," he yelled, lifting his tear-streaked face, eyes swollen and red. He sniffed loudly, turned to me and repeated, "Riku, you were dying. Was I supposed to – would you have preferred – " He broke off, looking desperate, fearing my answer. Would I have preferred death?

"I was… dying?"

He took his fingertips in his teeth, chin on palms, sucked in a breath and nodded. "This was all that was left," he whispered through his fingers. His eyes met mine, reluctant, stricken with guilt. "I'm so sorry."

I went to where he sat, sank down beside him, hands squeezed between my thighs, a careful two inches between us. "What – happened?" I managed to ask.

His breathing slowed, initial panic dying down when I didn't lose control. I wondered what reaction he'd been fearing, how often it had played through his mind. "You passed out in the trunk. You didn't wake up… for four days…"

"…Four…?" I was astounded. I had no recollection of that kind of time passage. Four days?

"It wasn't stress," Sora said quickly, with bitterness. I remembered his outburst in the hospital, telling me to get better, or stay the fuck away…

"I should have stayed away from you," I whispered. He flinched, sucking in a gulping breath, pain written all over his face. My eyes widened.

"I mean – wait! I didn't mean it like that. Sora…" I lifted my hands, and he recoiled slightly, making me let out a noise of distress. I grabbed him before he could pull away further. "I'm – I'm not going to hit you, So." I ran my thumbs up his cheeks, drew his gaze to mine. "I should never have involved you in this. I should have – left you alone like you wanted."

He couldn't stop the laugh that sprang out sharply. "I'd have come looking."

I dropped my hands, taking them back into my lap, and we looked at each other. "I'm sorry I scared you," I said quietly. "They wouldn't even let me see you. If it hadn't been for Demyx…"

Sora chuckled a little. "Yeah. Him and Zexion, they're… they're great. They…" He trembled, forced a smile. "They're letting me sleep on their sofa."

I sighed. "You don't have your own room?" He hesitated, shook his head.

"He will," came a voice from the doorway. We both turned. Zexion leaned against the frame, Demyx hiding behind him. The pair had been listening in. Zexion's unobscured eye held mine steadily. "You have to prove yourself, that's all. I doubt they'll deliberately mistreat Sora."

"I have to prove myself?" Anger curled in me. "How? What the fuck are they planning on doing to me?"

Zexion shrugged. "Hojo's got a lot of inspiration. He'll go easy on you at first, but later on..."

Sora's hand came up to my arm, clutched it tightly. "Is he – going to hurt Riku?" he asked, voice low. Demyx gently grabbed hold of Zexion's shirt, tugging him back.

"Uh, look guys, me and Zex are going for a walk, okay? You two need some time alone, without us eavesdropping, so, yeah…"

They disappeared pretty quickly, the realisation that Sora's question hadn't been answered hanging in the air between us. Sora's face was heavy, eyes dark.

"It's not your fault," I said softly. "Don't be sorry."

"Well, it's not your fault, either," he mumbled. He settled back into the couch, arms folded. I slid down beside him.

"A-are you okay?" I asked. He nodded quietly.

"You?"

"Yeah. I don't think… I'm dying anymore."

He smiled slightly, turned to look at me. "I'm glad." I touched him, ran a smooth finger down the side of his face.

"So," I whispered, "which one are you now, anyway?"

He turned onto his side, placing a hand on the back of the couch in front of his face, studying me with those bright blue eyes. "Which fucking one do you even want me to be?" he returned dutifully, dubiously. I smiled crookedly.

"You?" I leaned forward to kiss him lightly, an act which he returned with something like desperation. For a long time, we simply clung together, lips and tongues working, each of us begging forgiveness in our own way, each comforting the other. This time it was he who roamed, leaving my lips behind to feather his breath along my jaw, pressing his mouth to the various points on my neck. His hands slid up under my thin shirt, gripping the sides of my waist, thumbs pressing into the dip between ribs. We ended up lying awkwardly across the sofa, which was too short to accommodate the full length of my legs. Sora lay on top of me, returning to my lips. There was a frantic energy to his motions. He moaned low in his throat, eliciting an answering rumble from my own. His tongue flicked my eyelids, hands kneading up to my chest, nails digging cages around my nipples. We were both breathing hard, my mouth yearning for contact with his, with his flesh. He filled it, tongue flexing hard against mine, almost beating me back. The ferocity of his passion startled me. When I felt one of his tears drop onto my face, skating down the skin beside my eye, I pulled back. He tried to follow, but I held him, my hands wrapped gently around his throat, feeling the throb of his pulse under my fingertips. He made a small, needing noise, the vibration running through my palms, sending tingles flushing down through my arms and into my entire body. But he was crying.

"Sora, baby, what's wrong?" I panted. His sorrow was my sorrow. I couldn't bear to see him hurt. "What? Did I – did I do something wrong? I'm – "

"Don't tell me you're sorry, damn it," he said, weeping harder, raining on my face. I blinked rapidly as one came in contact with my eye, stinging a little. "I'm sick of your apologies. I told you, it's fine!"

"Then – why are you crying?" I demanded, strangled.

"You mean aside from the obvious?" he snarled, his voice-box thrumming in my hands. "Let me tell you, Riku. I will, will I? I'll tell you, that aside from the fact that we're trapped – " His legs tightening around me, he straddled me now instead of just lying on me. " – aside from the fact that we're never leaving this place – " His hands found fistfuls of sofa either side of my head, pulling some of my hair at the same time, making me wince. " – aside from the fact that… that you're going to get hurt here, and I know that you will – " His anger was gone, he was back to gasping, his nose a bare touch away. " – I'm crying, because I nearly lost you. I'm crying because I never thought I'd see your eyes again, and they're stunning, did you know that? I'm crying – " Yes. Yes, he was. " – because I thought you were already dead, and there was nothing I could do to save you. And now – and now…" He suddenly lost his power, collapsed onto me, face digging into the crook of my neck, leaving me breathless. When he spoke this time, it was muffled by my skin, but no less clear, no less heart-felt. "And now I'm here with you. You smell like you need a shower. Your hair needs brushing. You've gone all thin, and tired, and you walk like you're going to fall over… but you're here. And you're holding me. And all of those things I just said, their not criticisms, I love them. I love that I can smell you again, and feel you again, and…" He couldn't keep going. He broke down, as I clung to him. I rolled us over, crushing us onto the small couch on our sides, with me on the outer edge so that there was no risk that he would fall. We were eye-to-eye, our foreheads and noses pressed together, me breathing his exhalations, him breathing mine, finding it harder and harder as, between us, the oxygen started running out. We had to angle our chins back a little, let some fresh air come into it.

"I remember," I whispered, "the last thing you said to me, was that you loved me. At least… at least if I had died then, you would have known that I knew." This pushed him over the edge again, brought on another storm of tears.

"Fuck you," he whimpered, holding me tightly.

"Even if I die tomorrow, if I trip and crack my head open, I will die knowing that you love me."

He couldn't stand keeping his eyes open any longer. They slipped shut, releasing more of his anguish to dampen the neck of his shirt. I traced my fingers along the shell of his ear, used my index to smear the wetness over his skin until it dried away.

"It would hurt you to lose me, but you should know that I'd be dying happy. You are all that I need."

He sniffled, panted, tried to control himself long enough to say: "If I die tomorrow – I die happy – because I know that you love me, too."

I broke our close contact, lifting my face and squirming up, so that my head was propped, neck stiff, against the arm of the couch. I tucked his face into my chest. "Well," I said hoarsely, "we're here now. And if I do what they say, we don't have to be apart ever again. Nobody has to die. This isn't where we want to be, but we're together. And they aren't going to do anything unless we try to escape." There was a long silence.

"I think," Sora said at last, his throat wet from all the crying, "that if there was a way to escape, Demyx and Zexion would have taken it. They hate it here."

"We can be happy, though," I whispered. "Demyx said we can be family, and we'll all look out for each other. And if I'm good, we can have our own place like they have, and you can sleep on your very own sofa."

He laughed, voice raspy, and I giggled a little into his hair. Then, for a while, we just lay there, neither of us needing to move, until Demyx and Zexion, some other world's version of Nine and Six, returned to reclaim their apartment.