Radiant Creatures of Destiny Township

by ThePlotMurderers

Radiant County, Colorado is a dull suburban outpost with nice, unassuming townsfolk. But beneath the surface, a web of intrigue, mystery and danger seethes. All it takes is one misbegotten act of adolescent love to shake the balance, and set events in motion that will change the citizens of this humble place, forever. Small Town AU/Multi Ship/Almost Every Character

25. Missed Communications

Chapter 25, Missed Communications

A/N: And welcome back to Radiant Creatures. It's a new day in Radiant County, with new troubles and new adventures for our plucky crew. Hope you like it!

---

Selphie didn't know why Mother was always worrying about Wakka's diet. One second in his car was all it took to know how much he loved his veggies.

"Can we lower a window, at least?" she asked in a high, strained voice, the better to keep from breathing in the stench of the devil's AstroTurf before homeroom.

"Why? We're almost there."

"Fat lot of good 'almost there' is gonna do if I choke to death."

"You askin' me, you oughta take a big whiff in. You'll feel better."

"Is that what you do when you've been up all night being questioned by the cops and you only got thirty minutes of sleep?"

"That last one, yeah," but Wakka did turn to look at her, running a red light in the process, which was little comfort to her, "You know, you don't have to go to school, yeah? If they don't let you cut after all this shit..."

"Cutting would be running away. I don't do that."

"No better time to start."

Selphie glared at him and he shrugged, "I mean it."

"That's what makes it sad," she sighed, "Sorry, that was mean."

"Sorry? Whoo shit, this is getting to you."

"Don't make fun of me!" she protested, "Am I not supposed to be freaked out after getting front row seats to the Corpse Posing exhibit?"

"Nah, I guess not," he hesitated, "I guess. Um..."

"Pull over here," she indicated nodding at the approaching Destiny High lot.

"I know where the school is, sis. I did graduate from here."

"That remains to be proved."

The lot was already crowded. Homeroom bell was in ten minutes. She was cutting it pretty close. Normally, she would have attempted to get here earlier, not out of any love for the academic institution, but simply because all the juiciest stuff happened before school. And to bum a ride off her brother? She was going through it, make no mistake.

"Still time to bail out if you wanna, Selph," Wakka told her, putting the car in park.

Selphie considered, her hand pressed against the door handle. At last, she turned back to him, "Thanks, but no thanks. I can handle it."

"'Course you can. But why should you?"

"Why should anyone?" she opened the door, letting in a cool blast of fresh, rain-drenched air, "Take care of yourself, Big Brother. Maybe get a job, make us all proud?"

"I just chauffeured you to school!"

"That's not a paid service," she winked, shouldering her schoolbag, stepping out onto the asphalt, "But really, don't let this be your one good deed for the day."

"Good, huh?"

"Passable."

"You're a piece of work, sis,"

"I know," she closed the door, giving Wakka a little two fingered salute through the window, "Catch ya later."

Wakka peeled out of the parking lot, already making good on his promise by nearly rear-ending a Honda Civic on the way. Selphie stood in place, watching him go, not entirely realizing she'd gone entirely stationary until she blinked, feeling the threat of new raindrops on her forehead, a fresh, high wind against her face.

"Right," she told herself, "onward."

She wished she could delude herself into thinking this was like any other Wednesday morning, like she hadn't been up till 5:00 AM thinking about the fresh waitress tapestry in her friend's apartment, blood on the wall, the floor, the cold, official, no-bullshit questions from the cold, official no-bullshit cop who she knew, just knew was onto her.

She was actually surprised she wasn't catching the morning news from the other side of a set of bars right about now.

Selphie climbed the front steps into the school, aware of people turning to look at her as she passed, heads bowed to confer in low voices. She was used to this, of course. She was Selphie, the masses naturally stopped whatever they were doing to defer to her at any time.

But this was different, Selphie knew it. She wasn't an object of admiration, even the more coveted (and, let's be real, more socially expedient) envy. This was curiosity, gawking at her like some roadshow curiosity, or some freaky little animal lying dead in the gutter.

"Happy Windsday."

"Are you high?" Selphie asked, not even turning to regard Irvine as he lifted himself from the wall he was leaning against to follow her.

"What? Windsday? It's Wednesday, it's windy... They call it a portmantoo, smooshing two words together."

"How clever."

"Yeah, so did the dead chick have her tits out, or is that just fake news?"

Selphie scoffed, rolling her eyes, not slowing her pace.

"Just that me and some of the guys have this bet..."

Selphie stopped short in the middle of the hallway, turning to look at him, "Yes! Yes, she had her tits out!" she exclaimed, no care to how loud she sounded, "They were nicely offset by all the blood oozing out of her open wound. Sorry, I didn't have time to take measurements."

She broke off, breathing heavily. Irvine's eyes darted around the hall, his face seeming to vanish up within the confines of his stupid cowboy hat.

Selphie looked up and down the hall, realizing everyone who'd stopped what they were doing to look at her.

"Well?" she demanded, looking around at them all, "Back to your bullshit! Nothing to see here. Just another morning in Destiny!"

"Selphie..." Irvine began as she continued down the hall, "Hey, Selph, I'm sorry! If...if you need some..."

"Happy Windsday, asshole!" she called back to him, not looking over her shoulder.

The nerve of him. What the hell gave him the cajones to even think he could try anything with her, especially now. As if her being caught up in a murder investigation was some kind of quirky conversation starter.

Selphie was becoming more and more convinced everything around her was unreal, the increasingly weird, surreal, alarming chain of events. How else to explain how determinedly life seemed to be going on around her, only her and a select group of doofy losers, misfits and misbegottens noticing how bad it all really was.

"Selphie!"

Speaking of misbebottomed losers...

"Good morning, Mr. Thatch," Selphie greeted her history teacher as she passed him into homeroom, "Sleep well?"

Given he looked like a hastily microwaved plate of mashed potatoes, probably not. He leaned against his desk, waxy face working as his mouth formed some soundless words, before managed to say, "Not very well, I'm afraid."

"May I recommend screaming into the void? Really gets the heart going."

"So that was you I heard in the hallway?"

"I was provoked."

"I explained as much to Dean Waternoose," Milo hesitated, "He P.A'd me, wanting to speak to you."

"It's been two minutes!"

"Yes, well, I was able to talk him down," he smiled uneasily, "You've been through quite a lot."

"Oh," she blinked, "...thank you."

"It's no trouble. Frankly, I'm impressed you kids even came to school today."

"Kids?" Selphie turned to look at the desks around the room. Tidus flashed her a little peace sign from his desk, giving her an expression that was either a smile or a grimace. Next to him, Zack, still red eyed and looking as drained as Selphie felt, nodded, then quickly lowered his head, appearing to force down a puke.

Lovely.

"Nobody your age should have to be subjected to...that," he said at length.

"Yeah, well...neither should anybody your age."

"Perhaps not," he sighed, "Listen, Selphie..."

Great. Nothing good ever began with 'Listen, Selphie'. You'd think the adult impulse to hand out pedantic lectures would have lessened by the onset of womanhood, but in Selphie's experience it was quite the opposite, and the lectures somehow got even more derivative.

"...I understand being frightened. And confused. Heaven knows, I'm still coming to terms with...with quite how I feel about that poor girl..."

Oh, shit.

"Mr. Thatch, I really appreciate it, but I think that kinda thing's best left for the couch, if you know what I mean..."

"...but, really, in times of great conflict, it's the pack that survives. Sticking together in the face of adversity. Like the early men of Skara Brae."

"Mr. Thatch, I'm sorry to tell you this, but this is not the week to check if I've been doing the reading."

"What I mean to say," he heaved a great sigh, "I know you're frightened, and confused..."

"That doesn't even scratch the surface, really..."

"But you shouldn't have taken my letter."

"What?" she stopped abruptly, "Your...your letter?"

He looked furtively up and down the room, somehow managing to lower his voice more than it already was, "It's no use pretending, Selphie, I know you know about it, we were all together last night. Now, that letter is a coded message, and I have not finished decoding it. I know we decided to keep...certain things from the police last night..."

"That was a decision? Because it felt more like a conniption fit rolled into a manic episode."

"It is expressly important that letter not fall into the wrong hands!" he said desperately, "Selphie, I know you're upset about what happened, and I know Zack is your friend..."

"Yeah, he is. What's the point?"

"You're not protecting anybody holding onto that letter. Selphie, lives are at stake..."

The homeroom bell rang. Selphie shrugged, "I'll consider myself saved. Thanks, Mr. Thatch."

"Selphie..." he began, but she'd already started over to her desk.

"What the hell was that about?" Tidus asked before she'd even sat down.

"Are you okay? What did he ask you? You're not in trouble, are you?" asked Zack.

"Do you need Irvine's ass kicked, because I'm in the mood...

"I'm not sure, no, give me a second, probably not, and maybe later," Selphie answered each question in a row, putting her bag down on the floor by her feet.

She looked from one boy to the other, casting another glance at Thatch, who was clearing his throat, fumbling for the attendance list.

"The Nutty Professor thinks I took his coded message."

"He what?" asked Tidus.

"That letter, the one in the secret code."

"The one that told him Cloud was a murderer," Zack muttered, "Jeez."

"But you didn't, did you?"

Selphie shook her head, "What's the point? It's not like he ever finished cracking it."

"Who's the letter from?" asked Zack, "Did he tell you?"

Selphie shook her head, "I think he thinks we're trying to protect Cloud. If that letter says he killed someone, then it's evidence."

"Aren't we protecting Cloud?" asked Tidus, "I mean...it's not like we told that cop what we know. Right?"

Selphie shook her head, "I thought we were agreed. No more sniping about that."

Zack had gotten very quiet. Feeling a stab of pity for him, Selphie added, "It's not your fault, Zack."

"No," said Tidus, though it didn't sound like he meant it, "Of course not."

"It's not that..." he sighed, "I just don't get it."

"Welcome to the club," Tidus leaned back in his chair, flinching a bit as he did so.

"You okay?" asked Selphie. He nodded, "Just banged my knee running up those stairs. It's fine."

"You sure?" prompted Zack. Tidus glared at him, "Yes, Mother."

Selphie rolled her eyes, turning back to Zack, "You were saying?"

He nodded, "I just...I keep thinking about Cloud and Aerith. I can't understand why he'd do this."

"Guys kill their girlfriends all the time," said Tidus. Selphie gave him a look and he added, "What? It's true."

"Comforting."

"Well, I didn't mean like..."

"If Cloud did do that, and then he ran off...I just don't see where he'd go."

"That reminds me," began Selphie, "Where did you go?"

"What?"

"Well, last night...your apartment being a crime scene and all."

Zack sighed, "I...um...I crashed at Amphitrite's place. I mean, she spent the night at the hospital and...well, I have an extra key, so..."

"Fascinating, I'm glad we've got that clear," said Tidus, "Why can't we just forget about Cloud. Really?"

"Tidus..."

"Seriously? He killed his girlfriend and ran away. He's gone," he looked at Zack, "I'm sorry, man, but that's how it is."

"And we're supposed to let him get away? We..." he stopped himself, "I'm the one that decided to hide him. If...if someone else gets killed."

"So what? You want us to catch him?"

"Zack, don't be silly," said Selphie, "The cops will handle this."

"The cops don't know him."

"Neither do you," said Tidus, "You've basically admitted he's not the guy he was back then."

"No. But there's something, I know it. Something I'm missing. Guys, I'm not asking you to go along with me on this..."

"Good," grumbled Tidus.

"...but if I don't try to stop him..."

"Alright, Philistines and Phoenicians," Thatch announced clearly, holding the attendance list up, "I regret to inform you all that, despite the...adventures of yesterday..." he faltered, a bit of green lighting up his gills, "...the world keeps on turning."

"And turning and turning," said Selphie, looking from Tidus to Zack, one reproachfully and one, she felt regretfully.

Though it pained her that she felt more one way than the other.

---

The city came alive in her dreams. Flashing neon signs blinking down from shop windows, the smell of baked nuts and hot coffee from kiosks along the street. A hundred tiny bulbs strong on wires from shop to shop, crisscrossing over cobblestone paths like so many fireflies suspended in space.

The air was chilly, yet weirdly warm, scented with cinnamon and nutmeg. Winter smells, anticipating the cold.

"It's so beautiful," her words were soft, enchanted. She was enchanted, and living an impossible life. She should have known then that it would not, could not last.

"You think so?," even now, his smile was a comfort to her, the flushed pink in his cheeks, the almost bashful, yet oddly proud curve of his smile, "Geez, I wasn't even trying."

His arm was warm, solid against her shoulders. She felt anchored, grounded in this soft, fuzzy dreamworld.

It was a dream, wasn't it? That's why it felt so safe.

She was sick of safety.

She opened her eyes, feeling her lashes almost cling to each other, parting reluctantly. A harsh fluorescent light beat down on her eyes, as if trying to force them shut again. But she resisted the impulse.

Her mother was sitting next to her bed, on a hastily rolled out cot, head balanced on one arm. She was her mother, wasn't she? Older, thinner, her once rich auburn hair gone to gray. It was sad, and a little scary as well.

Could it be true, then? What they were all saying? Those snatches of hushed conversation that had crept into all those hours of sleep? Time had gone on, or perhaps it had been going on.

There was a soft beeping nose. Medical machinery, ticking off on some invisible pulse. She need only turn a little to the side to see the clear tube strung out from her arm, some equally clear fluid being steadily pumped into her.

The sight of it made her sick, queasy. She pressed one hand to her mouth, began to quietly retch.

"Namine?" a stirring from the cot beside her, her mother was sitting up, putting her legs out over the side, "Namine, dear..."

She turned to look at her, feeling her eyes begin to sting, "M-mother?"

It still didn't feel real. Judging from the look on the woman's face, it was no different for her. She reached out, put a staying hand on her arm.

"You must have a thousand questions, and Lord knows, I have a thousand more. There'll be time, I promise you. You just sit here."

"But..."

"I'm to fetch the doctor at the first sign of life. By God, you are alive," she smiled, which was a shock enough both for its familiarity and its rarity. Her mother was not a woman known for easy smiles, as radiant as they might be when she did attempt them.

"I'll be right back. So help me, I'll be getting you out of here as fast as I can manage."

"But..."

But nothing. She was already gone. Namine sighed, sitting the rest of the way up in her bed. There were no windows in this room, but she got the impression it was morning. She'd slept the day away, if really it had been sleep. Everything was just so hazy, so confused. There seemed almost nothing at all between the warm light of those narrow streets, the spices in the air, and this cold, empty white space.

They'd probably try to make her remember. Namine supposed that would be a good thing, and yet a part of her didn't want to remember. There could be nothing good lying in that big blank space. Not if the reality around her was truly real.

Her mother, old, withered, reduced. Her usually serene, solid figure falling apart at the merest sign of life from her. Everybody and everything strange, foreign, the world appearing to her as if viewed through some frosted glass. Indistinct, foggy. Fake.

Nobody seemed likely to tell her this any time soon, but she knew. She'd slept away a lifetime, like some fairy tale princess under a curse. Only her return wasn't awash in celebration and joy, but fear and consternation. Uncertainty and trepidation.

You should be dead.

The realization hit her suddenly, without warning. A frank thought that barely felt like a thought, like some other voice was whispering to her from one of those mammoth monitors making sure she was, in fact, alive.

She began to cry, then. Softly sobbing, lifting her hand to her face to stifle the noise. It wouldn't do to be seen like this, she'd have to explain why, and she didn't want to explain, not when she had no explanations to give...

"It's true, then."

A shadow fell over the doorway, but she didn't need that to know someone had joined her. The voice was enough: rich and full, it seemed to warm every inch of her, and make her skin prickle all at once.

"I didn't want to believe it," he was a man, tall and broad, with an air of confidence that he must have put together from scratch. And yet, the soft set to his eyes, the hesitant tremor to his lips, indicated there was a bit of the boy she'd known beneath all that as well.

"But here you are."

She wiped away her tears, nodding and finding that, when she spoke, her words were tiny and choked with the threat of more tears, "Here I am."

And his mouth split into the smile she remembered so well, true and boyish, teeth bared, "Nami?"

"Xem," she smiled back, "I guess I've missed a lot."

And he crossed the room in two strides, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace, "It is you. Oh my God, you're back."

"Please don't ask me how," she told him, pulling a little away, "I won't be able to tell you."

Xemnas nodded, "Then I won't ask. But...but you must have so many questions."

"A few. My mother's being really great...well, I mean, I think she is. I haven't really spoken to her. Or...anyone."

She looked him up and down. He looked much the same as she remembered him. Sturdier, maybe, with more of an air of refinement, of confidence. There was less shyness to him.

"Nice suit," she pointed out, indicating the black blazer, the silver tie.

"Oh..." he plucked at the jacket, as if foraging for invisible dust motes, "Thank you."

"I guess you surrendered to the corporate machine, after all?"

Xemnas managed another smile, but it was even less steady than the last. There was a noticeable constraint to his voice, "Don't believe I didn't fight it."

"But you're happy now?"

It was a while before he answered, "You're here. That's all the happiness I need."

"I am here," she agreed, "And, as far as I can figure, still 17 years old."

Xemnas sighed, lowering his head a little, "You want to know..."

"Please. I'd ask my Mother, but she wouldn't tell me, you know her. She'd never let me know, she'd think she was protecting me," she begged softly, "Please, Xemnas. How much time?"

He didn't answer at once, but he did, at length, say, "21 years."

She let out a breath, feeling the tears on her lashes.

"I'm sorry, Namine," he told her, "Truly, I am...so sorry."

"How?" she asked, "I don't understand. It's like...like some huge gap in my memory. Like I blinked once, and...and the whole world changed."

"It's not fair," he told her eventually, "I wish there was something..."

"You came to see me. That's enough. If it really has been that long...well, a lot of people might not have thought it."

He smiled sadly, "I could never forget you. I never have," he sighed, "Namine..."

"You," the word was hissed out with a downright frightening touch of venom, "How dare you?"

Xemnas closed his eyes, letting out a sigh between his teeth as he got back to his feet at Namine's bedside, "Amphitrite."

"Mother," Namine began, watching where her mother stood in the doorway, closely followed by a sallow-faced, oddly hatted doctor, "please..."

"I must admit," Amphitrite paid Namine little notice, her eyes only for Xemnas, "I'm impressed at your gall. Most monsters prefer to stick to cover of darkness."

"I only wanted to see her," Xemnas's tone had reverted to stiff, businesslike, formal, "See if it was true."

"Well, you've seen her. You shan't see her again."

"Amphitrite..."

"I've taken some lumps in my time, swallowed enough pride, but God as my witness, I still have enough clout in this sorry town to have you dragged from this hospital and barred at the door! Don't think I won't try it!"

"Mother, please!" Namine pleaded, but Xemnas stopped her.

"It's alright. You'll be needing your rest."

With one last look to her, a barely visible smile, he was gone. The doctor let out a long breath, "Quite a show. If there was any doubt you were alive before, that's over now."

He set to busying himself with a notepad, as if preparing for some exam. Namine leaned back against the pillow as Amphitrite lowered herself next to her.

"I am sorry for that," she said.

"Does that mean I get an explanation? For...for anything?"

"You need your rest," she said firmly, "And before you sort out anything about this sorry world, we have to sort you out first."

"You still hate him," she scoffed, "It's just...I don't know why I'm surprised. It's like everything's changed and nothing's changed all at the same time."

"It's fairly more complicated than that," she sighed, "My dear, you don't know what this has done to me. I...I thought you were gone. Forever."

"How?" Namine asked, "Gone how, Mother?"

She stopped short, looking on, her eyes bright and watery. No answer left her lips, which was all Namine needed to know.

"Oh my God..."

"It's...it's not quite..."

"Oh my God," and the tears came again, in earnest, "I wasn't...I couldn't have been..."

"Namine..."

"Where's Dad?" she asked abruptly, the thought suddenly occurring to her, "Mother, where is Dad?"

Amphitrite was quiet, "My dear..."

And she broke down as well, crying with her, a weight like nothing Namine had ever known descending on her shoulders.

Or at least, a weight like nothing she could remember.

---

The tape ran in close circles, ticking on in a rhythmic, consistent pattern. Maybe it was just Squall's neuroses catching up, but ticking noises were starting to creep into everything.

Sighing, he picked up his pen, gave a quick glance at the one-way window to give some verisimilitude to the audience, and then returned to the sham that his job had become.

"This is Detective Squall Leonhart, Destiny Police Department, in conference with the suspect Seifer Almasy. The date is Wednesday November 17th. It's 10:30 A.M. This interview is being tape recorded."

"You don't say?"

Squall narrowed his eyes, "Name?" he asked tersely.

"You just said it for the tape."

Squall gritted his teeth, "You know how this works."

And he did. Clearly it was more convincing to just go on being a glib asshole, as usual. Less suspicious that way.

"Seifer Almasy."

"And let the record show, Mr. Almasy..."

"Seifer's fine."

Squall glared, but Seifer just kept on smiling like an idiot, "Well, it's not like I ain't done this before."

"Let the record show that you have chosen not to contact an attorney. Right, Mr. Almasy?"

Seifer nodded, "I don't trust lawyers. Nine times out of ten, you ain't done nothing and it's your lawyer gets you hung up for it anyway."

"You understand that anything you tell me here may be presented as evidence in court?"

"I didn't figure you were just interested in me, no."

"May the record also show," Squall resisted the urge to look toward the window, aware of the particular significance of this point, "That Mr. Almasy is not, at this point, formally charged with any crime, but was apprehended under suspicion."

"That's a load of bull and you know it!" Seifer cried out, too loudly, leaning forward in his chair.

Really trying for the Golden Globe now, isn't he?

"Mr. Almasy," Squall spoke over him, slowly and deliberately, "I must ask you to compose yourself."

Seifer broke off at once, smiling as if satisfied. Squall wondered if he remembered they were being watched as well as listened in on, and decided that Seifer knew this, and was deciding it wouldn't do any harm to either of their images if he looked like a cheeky asshole.

Probably had a point.

"Mr. Almasy, perhaps you will state for the record..."

"But not for you?" he grinned, "What, you're suddenly off my case?"

"...what you were doing in the vicinity of the Elysian Fields Hotel and Casino on the night of Saturday, November 13th of this year."

"What does anybody do at a hotel and casino? I casined."

"You gambled?"

Seifer blinked. Perhaps he wasn't aware 'casined' was not a verb...or anything. Eventually, he regained himself enough to add, "They've got a gambling license, don't they? They don't, you take it up with them..."

Squall gave him a look, and Seifer just smiled back. Squall wished he could have full faith that he'd remember to present his statements as they'd prepared, that too much hinged on them failing, that the slightest misstep would ruin them. He knew Seifer wasn't stupid, but it had never been stupidity that was his problem, so much as a willful disregard for his own safety. And the safety of others.

"Do you often patronize Elysian Fields?"

"Now and again, when I've got the time."

"And your line of work allows for these frequent trips?"

Seifer shrugged, Squall noticing that he had become somewhat shifty eyed. He repressed a sigh, locking eyes with Seifer to remind him of his purpose.

"You're asking if I'm rich or something?"

"I was asking if you were financially able to keep up your casino visits," Squall answered firmly.

"'Cuz a guy's got the be rich to piss his money away, is that it?" Seifer snorted, "Come on."

"You're dodging my question."

"I'm telling you I don't got money to burn. What, you wanna know where I work too?"

Squall bristled. He could almost imagine Ratcliff watching through the window, practically salivating at the thought of another Earthshaker in his custody. And not just any Earthshaker...

"That was the nature of my question, yes."

"Then you coulda just asked it."

"I'm asking now. Your work?"

"You already know what I do, Leon."

Squall leaned over the table, knowing Seifer was goading him, just like always, even now, "Let's assume for a moment that your lifestyle choices have changed. That neither I, nor anyone else at this department know what you do. How would you describe the nature of your work."

Seifer was quiet for a while, that smile still plastered on his face, "Unemployed."

Squall leaned back in the chair, "Unemployed?"

"Do mechanic work sometimes, freelance. Ask around, I've got a pretty good rep."

"You maintain you don't have any official employment?"

"Well, I belong to a club if you're interested in that sorta thing."

"A club?" Squall asked, hoping he didn't sound as exhausted as he felt.

"Earthshaker Motorcycle Club, Destiny Chapter. I'm president, matter of fact, funny story how that happened really..."

"Let the record show that Mr. Almasy has admitted his involvement with the social organization known as the Earthshakers."

Maybe he was just imagining it, but the one-mirror was getting a little misty. Ratcliff must have his lips pressed up against the glass with excitement.

"Nothin' illegal about belonging to a club now, is there?" asked Seifer.

Squall continued, "You've been president of the Destiny Chapter for how long?"

"Don't you already have this stuff on a tape or fifty? Hell, man, couldn't you write a book?"

"For the record."

"What am I being charged with again?" Seifer leaned forward, "That's right. Nothing. You said."

"You aren't at liberty to answer any of my questions."

"Looks like you forgot to say that before," Seifer shrugged, "Sloppy, sloppy, Leon."

Shit. Squall let out a short breath, "If you're as familiar with this process as you claim, that shouldn't be a problem. Or have I made you answer anything against your will?"

Seifer was quite for some time before shaking his head, "Nah. You know how it is, Leon. You and me...simpacito."

"Simpatico?"

"S'what I said," Seifer drummed his fingers against the tabletop, "Five years. More or less."

"That you've been president?"

"That I've been sitting here dealing with your bullshit. Yeah, since I been president. Don't you remember, Leon? You were there?"

Squall looked at the tape deck, back at the window, then to Seifer, "You say you often patronize Elysian Fields. Do you go alone?"

Seifer shrugged.

"Shrugging doesn't show up on tape."

"You don't say?" he shrugged again, "Earthshakers are like my family. You take your family to the craps table?"

"Are they aware of these trips?"

For the first time, there was some real hesitation in Seifer's manner, a reticence. Squall wondered who he was trying to protect: the 'family' he'd been grifting for all this time, or himself.

"I don't advertise it, no. Man needs his privacy every once in a while, don't he?"

There seemed to be a warning tone in his voice, like this time it was Seifer trying to keep Squall from pushing too far. As if Squall owed it to him to protect the Earthshakers, as if he got anything out of this phony interview, this stupid charade. Anything but an extended chance to throw everything he stood for in the trash, all so so he could do some other lowlife's dirty work...

As if that's your only stake in this, he told himself, you know exactly what you're doing.

Didn't make it any easier, or make him feel any better.

"Let the record show," Squall continued in a measured tone, "That I was present at Elysian Fields on the night in question, in my capacity as an undercover operative, my directive being to uncover any connection between the disappearance of two adolescent boys at the Destiny town limits on the night of Thursday, November 11th."

"Call it a chance meeting." Seifer said easily, "Wouldn't say either of us is any better for it."

He winked at Squall, a gesture so overt Squall was tempted to respond with a gesture of his own. Maybe a punch in the throat.

Instead, latent anger still burning in his gut, Squall proceeded, "Mr. Almasy, where were you on the evening of the 11th?"

"I thought we were talking about two evenings later?"

"Those were the circumstances of our meeting."

"I thought I was arrested for those circumstances."

Again, Squall wasn't sure if Seifer was being intentionally evasive for the sake of the act, or if he'd decided to rebel, though in this instance Squall didn't think that was going to serve Seifer very well at all.

"You were taken into custody for your connection to the circumstances of that evening."

"Which evening?"

"The 11th."

"Then why ask about the 13th in the first place?"

"Will you explain to me what you were doing on the 11th?"

"I don't have to."

"So you won't?"

"Not that it matters, don't it? Your mind's made up. You know exactly what I was doing."

Squall tensed, he gave Seifer the most explicit warning look he could manage, but that didn't stop him, "You guys have always been out for us. Always. We don't even have to do anything. You wonder why we don't trust the cops? One of us gets robbed, beat, shot at, killed...we're still suspects. You know why the Earthshakers started, Leon?" Seifer chuckled, "You should."

"That's immaterial."

"It's the material," Seifer drummed his fingers against the table, dangerously close to the recorder, as if to cause static, distortion for the playback, "We were started up to protect the little guy, the guy that gets kicked out of his job, can't pay his rent, who've got the cops breathing down his neck while all the rich guys get richer on their backs."

"Is that why you started dealing heroin?" Squalled asked loudly, unable to control himself, "Why you threw in with a known criminal organization to distribute drugs to teenagers? Taking care of the little guy, keeping the rich guy from getting richer?"

"That had nothing to do with me," said Seifer shortly, "You should know, you were there."

"The record will note," said Squall deliberately, "that Seifer Almasy was brought up in connection to a drug distribution ring between the Earthshakers and the Styx and Stones five years ago..."

"I helped you take down that ring!"

"...resulting in the death of an..."

"I didn't kill her!" Seifer roared, his words echoing in their confined space, "They..."

He lurched, nearly falling against the table, face suddenly reddening. Before Squall could move, he felt it too, another jolt, rocking him in his chair. It was a little longer than the last one, more sustained. Squall felt the weight on his heart, like his throat had temporarily closed. He turned to the recorder, realizing this could he be heard, seen.

And looked at Seifer, visibly struggling across from him, teeth clenched, fingers gripping the edge of the table. His eyes were wide, urgent. Short bursts of air escaping thinly parted lips. He was forcing down screams.

Squall reached forward and put his hand on Seifer's arm, to steady him. They looked at each other, Squall feeling a hundred screams boiling to a head within him, and slowly dissipating.

The pain passed. It couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds.

Seifer let out a breath, sinking back into his chair. The bravado had all evaporated in an instant. They looked at each other, breathing raggedly. Seifer looked small, defeated.

"This interview is concluded," said Squall eventually, "It will be resumed at a later date."

He switched off the tape recorder, nodding at Seifer to stand. Seifer looked at him in disbelief, but did eventually comply.

Ratcliff confronted him the second he'd left interrogation, looking and sounding seconds short of a proverbial climax.

"What is the meaning of this, Detective?" he rasped, greasy locks waving about his face.

"You heard..." Squall began, but Ratcliff cut him off.

"I heard absolutely nothing! Nothing of any worth..."

"And I'm not going to get anything of worth as it is. Maybe a night in lock-up will loosen him up."

"Or give him time to bolster his defenses."

"My defenses are plenty bolstered," said Seifer bitterly.

Ratcliff, in response, shook like a dog getting rid of water, "You've squirmed away from justice one time too many, you braggart urchin! Don't think your stalling buys you any time."

"That's what stalling's for, isn't it?"

"Take him away!" Ratcliff screamed at no one in particular. Two dispatchers crossed over to do the job, shepherding Seifer off between them. Squall made to follow, but Ratcliff put a staying hand on his shoulder.

"Detective Leonhart, you do have grounds for bringing this one in, do you?"

"More than I thought, it turns out."

"Because the boy makes a good case for this being some personal vendetta."

Squall bit his lip, "I thought you put me on this case because of my experience with these people."

"That's so. But I know as well as anyone how tempting it can be to have a score to settle..."

"I'm out of scores where Seifer's concerned. My vendettas can wait."

"I hope you're right, for all our sakes," he shook his head, mopping at his brow again, "Detective, I don't need to tell you what a trying week this has been for me."

"For you, yes, of course, sir."

"Now with Kisigari and your protege out on their errand..."

"Have you heard anything from Yuffie?" asked Squall, "Or Saix?"

Ratcliff shook his head, muttered something about 'murder investigation', though whether he was talking about the case Squall had just come back from, or some other thing entirely, he didn't clarify, and Squall didn't consider wise to ask.

"In any case, it's you and I to hold this sorry house together," he sighed tremendously, "This was a quiet place, once. Do you remember that?"

"Not very well," Squall looked around the room, "No autopsy results from the Gainsborough girl?"

"Not yet. If anything, Detective that's the most worrisome thing of all."

"The autopsy?"

"The murder. All these disappearances, well, that's one thing. But this...it rings a bell. A sinister one."

Squall did a double take, "What kind of bell?"

But Ratcliff suddenly clammed up, "Work to be done, Detective. Work and work and no rest. God, what will become of us?"

He shuffled off dolefully, Squall watching after him, deciding not to be confused, for the sake of his own sanity.

Once he was certain no one was watching him, he changed course, making his way to the cell block, and its solitary inmate.

"Here to spit in my shithole?"

Squall grimaced, "Don't...don't say that again."

"Sorry."

"You should be." Squall parked himself in front of Seifer's cell, "What were you trying to do, tell them everything?"

"You're the one that mentioned that night, not me."

"What was I supposed to do, say I arrested you for playing Hearts?"

"Well, that would've made me look a lot less shifty..."

"And it would've made me look like an idiot."

"We all take our lumps, Leon."

"He wouldn't have bought it for a second."

"He is an idiot!"

"You could've just made something up. You knew I wasn't gonna tell them about Kairi, that I couldn't..."

"Yeah, well, you did say that, and then you dragged me right into the grizzly cave!"

"...the lion's den?"

"You dragged me here!"

"So I could use the DPD database, search the archives, see what I could dig up on our guys..."

"It's just my bad luck I'm in a cell, huh?"

Squall sighed, "You're not gonna be charged with anything.72 hours and you'll be free to go."

"We don't have 72 hours, Leon. In case you forgot, we're on a time crunch, here!"

"Not a literal one," Squall sighed, "Though thanks to you, we've got less time than we did."

"First fuck up wasn't my fault," Seifer scowled, "And you don't wanna know what it was like hiding the insta-seizure from your boys over here. Pretended I was gonna pee my pants."

Squall cocked an eyebrow, "You can't be surprised. You came five seconds from mentioning you work for the Styx and Stones."

"You brought that up first, going on about Ri like that..."

"But it didn't happen until we got back to that night. I don't know, maybe the magic pacemaker isn't entirely perfect. Maybe we shouldn't talk about it ever again, play it safe."

"What a way to a run a business," muttered Seifer, "This rate, I might just punch myself in the chest eleven times and hope for the best."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Squall evenly, "I just had a thought."

"What? You wanna whack me again?"

"You told me Hades never got any girls from you. You're sticking with that?"

"Believe it or not, it's the truth."

"That doesn't change the fact that you admitted to abducting Kairi."

"Abduct is a bit of a..."

"You followed her in the middle of the night and kidnapped her. That's abduction."

"Just say kidnapping, it doesn't sound as bad."

"What about sex trafficking? Can we have that conversation again?"

"You called it human trafficking before."

"It's not much better. The night we ran into each other, in the Grotto, you were talking to the Madame, Ursula, about a girl. Of course, at the time I just thought you were paying for sex, which isn't that far out of the realm of reasoning..."

"Smooth, Leon, let's shit on the sex workers..."

"You weren't hiring a prostitute, you were buying one. We met her the next day, right before our mutual friend carved a letter into her back."

Seifer sighed, "Ariel."

"You thought I forgot?"

"Well, I wouldn't blame ya, if you did..."

"I'm not asking as a cop, I just want to know. You said already, we're stuck with each other. I think I'm owed a couple of answers. Maybe it'll even clear up why you set off Luxord's ticker back there."

Seifer considered, "Well, you're not far off... But I didn't buy her."

"No?"

"Shit, Leon, like I have that kind of money," he was quiet for half a second before hastily adding, "And I'm not that fucked up!"

"No, but you were willing to be middleman for someone who was. Who? The same people you got Kairi for?"

Seifer sighed, "Where is this getting us, Leon?"

"You want me to trust you."

"You got me into this in the first place!" Seifer reached out to forcefully grab one of the bars of his cell, "And I'm not even talking about now. It was you, you came over to me, used me for your little cop job, and then decided fuck it, you didn't need me any more!"

"I thought we weren't going over that again."

"You keep bringing it up. Like it's gonna make me feel bad. Like I don't hate it enough, like I like any of this..."

"You think Rinoa would've appreciated all this? Selling girls to the highest bidder?"

"Don't even try it, man."

"She believed in you. I told her it was stupid, that it was pointless, it wasn't the job. But she believed in you, and she went back for you..."

"You're gonna say she died for me," Seifer shook his head, "Don't. It ain't the truth."

And, to his credit, he didn't sound pleased about that. Squall sighed, "Enlighten me, then. Who are these people? If not the Styx and Stones, who are you selling the girls to?"

"Who was I selling the girls to."

"Ariel died three days ago, are we gonna pretend if I we hadn't run into each other, you would've just stopped?"

Seifer didn't say anything, so Squall picked up, "Counting Kairi, there's been six girls gone missing since last year. Did you take them all?"

Finally, Seifer answered, "No."

"No?"

Seifer shook his head, "No. You're not gonna believe me, but it's true."

"Try me."

"The Arab chick..."

"Jasmine Ahmed."

"Middle-Eastern, whatever. The one our dead guy had his way with."

"Jafar," said Squall, "She was his paralegal. You didn't take her?"

Seifer shook his head, "Not the librarian chick from Twilight, neither. Don't ask me, I don't know who did either of them."

"But the others..."

"I know, four out of six, and it would've been five out of seven if one of 'em hadn't got killed first. Listen, when it started..." Seifer sighed, "Remember I told you, I've had to keep it on the level with Hades's guys, so they get off my people's backs?"

"But you weren't taking girls for Hades."

"No, but his people set me up with these ones. There was a guy, like you called it, a middleman."

"This middleman got a name?"

"Not that he ever gave me," Seifer was even more reluctant than he'd been, "We'd meet one-on-one, in the dark, secret places. He'd give me a description."

"Like a name, address?"

"Man, you kidding? That's how I knew there was some fucked up shit going on. No names, no addresses. Just...like, hair and eyes. Skin. Like, the first two, they had to be blond and blue eyed."

"Had to be?"

"I know, real Nazi shit. Only other thing was they had to be nobodies."

"Poor, alone, no close family..."

"I asked what this was for. Guy just said it was none of my business. But, yanno, I'm not stupid. I figured it was sex."

"So, you...what? Figured it out yourself?"

"Not hard. Not with the Earthshakers. Whisper something a coupla times, people start talking, eventually something comes back to you and nobody ever thinks you started it. Heard about a teacher in Traverse, waitress too."

"Just like that?"

"Don't think I liked it."

"Doesn't matter if you didn't like it, you still did it. So, what, you knock them out..."

"They gave me some stuff. Knockout juice, I figured. Hold it up to their face..."

"I get it. You brought them over to your middleman..."

"And I got the cash."

"How much?"

Seifer didn't answer immediately, "A lot."

"A number would be nice. Put a price on a human life, you get it."

"A lot," he sighed, "Anyway, coupla months pass, I hear nothing, then the librarian goes missing. Thought it was weird, didn't think it was part of the same scam."

"Wasn't it?"

"Well, she wasn't blond and blue eyed, was she?" Seifer sighed, "And then the lawyer girl. So, yeah, I started to think it was all the same thing. Maybe some racket going on, but they got someone else to do it."

"And then Bianca?"

"The college kid?"

"Fun fact," said Squall, "She and Aerith Gainsborough were in the same graduating class at Radiant Community."

At Seifer's blank stare, Squall added, "The girl who was killed tonight."

"What, you think it's connected?"

"Well, one of our birds is accused of killing Jasmine's old boss, it's not a stretch," he hesitated, "But you took Bianca."

Seifer nodded, "Guy showed up out of nowhere one day, scared the shit outta me."

"I bet."

"Said he had a couple more jobs. But I'd put two and two together by now, figured I didn't want anymore of it. But you can't just say 'thanks but no thanks' to these guys, Leon, you know that."

"You could've gone to the cops."

"You really gotta stop telling people that like it's some great advice," Seifer shrugged, "So he gives me the description. Different one, brunette, brown eyes. Did the same trick, found her, that was it."

"And Kairi?"

Seifer sighed, "She was different. He asked for her, by name."

Squall frowned, "Why?"

Seifer shook his head, "Like he told me. Just that he needed her, same as all the others. And then, a coupla days later, I got a different message."

"Ariel?"

"Told me to find a red haired girl, blue eyes..."

"Same as Kairi."

"And I had to do it fast."

"So the Grotto. Put some of that money to good use."

"Well, like it or not, Ariel's one girl they're not gonna get, and it's on account of one of our birds, so that's so much for your little connection."

"It's a theory," said Squall, "So...you have no idea who these people are?"

"I know. I'm a shit criminal."

"But expert at self-preservation. God knows, it'll come in handy."

"Long as I watch my mouth, right?" Seifer sighed, taking a few steps back from the bars, "So what? We come back so you can do your cop stuff, figure out our next move, and now you're actually doing cop stuff and we're stuck."

"Not necessarily."

"Why, because the psychopath we're chasing after killed Ariel and this girl?"

"That, and this girl was Cloud's girlfriend."

Seifer blinked, "You're kidding?"

"Still think it's all a coincidence? The Captain implied there was some rivalry between Cloud and the Angel, maybe Aerith was a casualty of it."

Seifer let out a low whistle, "You said she was his girlfriend. So, what, did she know about..."

"I don't think so. Far as I can tell he left her behind when he went to the Underworld, same as everything else. Girl herself is clean. No record, no misdemeanors, not even a speeding ticket. Her local claim to fame is as a singing waitress."

"Must've made a cute couple," muttered Seifer.

"Far as I can tell, she had no contact with her ex for six years. Until last night."

"Last night?"

"Allegedly."

"So...he was there, at her place?"

"Wasn't her place. It was his. Or it used to be. His brother was there."

"He has a brother?"

"High school. There's a mother too, but she's out of town. We dropped her a line, let her know about the corpse in her apartment."

"So...what, Cloud was there?"

"Seems that way. His brother was keeping him there."

"Shit. Which of your detective tricks got you all this?"

Squall couldn't deny a tiny hint of reticence creeping into his tone as he answered, "He told me. The brother."

Seifer's face fell, "Kid admitted it?"

"He was pretty torn up about it. He's as in the dark about what his brother's been up to as anybody, he just thought he was protecting him."

"So what did you do? Bring him in?"

"Is he sitting in a cell?"

Seifer shrugged, "Well, what did you do?"

"Told him to keep it to himself. Him and his friends."

"His friends?"

"Two other kids from the crime scene. He didn't give them up, but they didn't exactly make it hard to find out they were covering something up."

"But they don't know anything about what he was doing or where he was?"

"No," Squall answered with certainty, "They wouldn't have hidden him if they had."

"How do you know?"

"They're kids."

"So's Riku, you didn't give him no benefit of the doubt, did you?"

"Says the guy who let him take the fall for the girl you kidnapped and sold."

Seifer grimaced as Squall added, "That's not it. Those kids weren't the only ones who found the body. A woman, Sora's mother, and one of the teachers from Destiny High. I didn't learn very much from the mother, but the teacher..."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved Thatch's coded message, handing it to Seifer through the bars. He examined it for about half a second before asking, sounding tired, "What's this? Chinese?"

"It's an encrypted message," Squall clarified, "A code."

"Then just say it's a code. The teacher was working on it?"

"I didn't ask him. He dropped it, I picked it up."

"Stole it?"

"We've both done worse things for worse reasons," Squall crossed his arms, "You don't recognize it?"

"If it's insipid, how am I supposed to recognize it?"

"Elysian Fields."

"This again..."

"We played Hearts with those blowhards. The card girl's mask had this same lettering written on it."

"You were looking at her mask?"

"She gave me a secret message too. Remember the playing card? They'll kill Celeste's boy?"

Seifer sighed, "Should've asked you where you got that."

"There were a lot of balls rolling," he replied dryly, taking the letter back, "The teacher, Thatch, he never got to finish decoding it. I figure it's probably best that way."

"Why?"

Squall looked at him, flipping the page over to the other side, and Thatch's neat, minuscule handwriting. He began to read, 'Milo, would that I could get this letter to yourself..." he paused, explaining, "There's a couple of errors. I guess he was having trouble."

"Fascinating. Keep reading."

Squall obliged him, "But I have only so many ways of finding you. It is too dangerous. So I have seen that it be delivered to a woman we can trust. Sora's mother has as much cost...I think that means stake...in this as I. Maybe more. At least I chose to undertake this danger."

"She's taking her time, isn't she?"

Squall gave him a look, resuming, "The day I met with you, I discovered the police believe Sora and Riku to have taken to the Underworld. Perhaps foolishly, I planned to go there myself, so that I may see this place and...and report on its cruelty. I look forward to the day that I might tell you all about my undertaking here, but I must be brief in this letter, for fear of it being captured...she must have meant intercepted..."

"Keen."

"...I would not want to endanger the few allies I have made here." he looked up at Seifer, "Then there's a few cross-outs. I think Thatch had some trouble with the next bit. But then, near the end... '...may never leave.'"

"Beautiful."

"'But there is hope for the boys. I must believe they are free now. The world here is chaos. They are not all that have escaped. I believe that I will never leave... the translation gets rougher. Guess he didn't have enough time."

"Maybe if you let him finish it..."

"He's the one that dropped it," Squall continued, "'because of what I know. A man is dead. Rashid Jafar. You remember my story. I saw him dead, and I know his killer, so I cannot leave. His killer is loose now, and he will not stop. He cannot. I do not know if he works with these monsters or against them, but he is dangerous. He is the reason I am here. But Milo you must not tell the police. They cannot know. My life is not the only one they have. Just know his name. Cloud Strife."

He shrugged, "The rest is untranslated."

Seifer was quiet for a while, "So...this card girl chick..."

"I think I know who she is," Squall nodded, "Jane Porter."

Seifer looked at him blankly. Squall sighed, "DTV News? She's a reporter."

"How do you know it's her?"

"She mentions Rashid Jafar."

"Well, we know Cloud killed him..."

"Jane Porter did an interview with Jasmine Ahmed just before she went missing. She's the one that broke the story about the scandal, that's why she asks Milo to remember it. There's a connection."

"Luxord said Cloud killed Jafar to make Hades look bad, like a hit gone wrong."

"If Jane found the body, she's one witness too many. Maybe they had to get her out of the way, keep her from talking before the truth about Jafar's death gets out. God knows, I haven't heard anything about it up here."

"And now she's warning her buddies about it, because..."

"Maybe she knows why Cloud is killing. Anyway, we know she must've seen Sora down there at least once. She sent me a message, after all, for all the good it did."

It haunted him to think about it. That night, at Elysian Fields. If he hadn't been so consumed with anger about the thought of Seifer lying to him, if he hadn't been so determined to beat the truth out of him, he might've thought to follow Jane, speak to her face-to-face, prove himself worthy of her confidence.

They might've worked together, and perhaps the next day wouldn't have ended the way it had.

"Well, that's one mystery solved," sad Seifer.

"You're gonna have to break that down."

"You spoke to this guy right? And the lady who got the letter in the first place?"

"...yes."

"If they read that far, they'd know not to tell the cops. Why else would they keep it from you?"

"You've got a point."

"Gee, thanks, man."

Squall sighed, looking up and down the deserted cell block, listening to the muted susurrus of noise from the dispatch. Wouldn't be long before someone set out to look for him, given Ratcliff conveniently forgot about everyone else in the department as long as Squall was around.

"So that's where we stand. Three people dead, one because of one bird, two because of the other..."

"And that's just the ones we know about."

"I'm gonna see what I can learn about these two. Angel might be tricky, but Cloud's got a family, former residence..."

"Dead girlfriend."

"...there's got to be something in the public record. Or at least the department's records. Helps us narrow the search. Those kids, they're all convinced Cloud killed her. If Celeste and Thatch read this letter, they believe the same thing..."

"But we know this ain't how that bird operates."

"It's the Angel. Not that we can say that..."

"Maybe not," said Seifer, "But there's something we can do."

Squall eyed him, "Yes?"

"The teacher and the mom, fine, we'll leave them out of it. They're probably too scared to piss straight. But these three kids..."

"I am not about to conscript three teenagers into our manhunt, Seifer."

"You said yourself they were hiding the guy! If he came back Sunday night, that's two whole days with him. They've gotta know something, maybe they don't even think its important."

"They're kids, and whatever they know can't be that important or Zack would've told me."

"He didn't tell you he had help. You figured that out yourself."

"And I could've figured anything else out, then."

"You're good, Leon. Not that good. Come on, what've we got to lose?"

"You don't want me to answer that?"

Seifer sighed, "Listen, kids are stupid. You convince them you can help 'em, say there's something in it for them, they're all in."

"Do you know how seedy you sound?"

"It's true!" said Seifer, but Squall was already walking off, doing all in his power to ignore him, "Leon! Hey, Leon...Leon!"

Squall let the door swing shut behind him, luxuriating in even this tiny little bit of agency. It appeared he'd have to take it where he could get it from now on.

---

"Subtle fella, isn't he?"

Bless Roxas, he was really learning to pick up cues. In response to Axel's comment, he made a tiny chuckling noise and said, "Probably has something to prove."

"I knew you were alright," Axel turned off the engine, pocketing the band van's keys (he'd considered dubbing it 'the Compass', but it came out sounding stupid as many times as it sounded badass, which he'd concluded deemed it not worth the trouble), "Let's move."

Roxas followed him out of the van and onto the rough ground where the cracked asphalt of this lonely side road met the dirt trail that wound off, up a hill, to the garish, three-story, wood and slate monstrosity that, according to the equally garish wooden signpost at the foot of the path, was 'HUNTING HOUSE'.

"Got a real imagination too," remarked Axel, looking up the path, "Okay, so we're gonna need a plan. I mean, it's not like we don't have one, I just haven't talked about it yet. But I've got a plan. Kind of a plan. I mean, it's an idea. I've done this kinda shit before. Yeah, I know this sounds bad, but they deserved it. Believe me. Roxas?"

He turned to address his silent comrade, worrying he might have careened off the deep end into precocious mute territory. Roxas was silent, sure, but not just standing rapt, like a zombie. No, instead he had turned away to look across the road at the treeline at the edge of the forest. His face was turned up into the soft breeze off the Rockies, his eyes open in wonderment.

"...Roxas?" Axel tried again.

"S-sorry," he cleared his throat, "Just...it's so beautiful."

"Yeah," agreed Axel, "It is nice, isn't it?"

"I just...I never noticed."

"Nah..." Axel sighed, "Who does?"

Roxas looked at him, as if startled. Axel explained, "Well, you live around something long enough Roxas, you get used to it. Doesn't seem that special anymore."

"I...I get it," he said, "Doesn't stop it being sad."

"No. Guess it doesn't."

"But...um...the plan?" Roxas prompted. Axel nodded, "Right. So, the van's out of the way."

They both looked at the van, parked in the shoulder of the road, under a capacious overhang. Not exactly invisible by any means, but hidden if you happened to be driving past. Well, mostly hidden. Ideally.

"I'd try and park us in the woods, but this thing isn't exactly trustworthy on pavement, and it's our only ride," he sighed, "So, that's the getaway. Shit gets too real, we make back for the van. Capiche?"

Roxas smiled helpfully, but Axel figured some edification was needed on this score, "Understand?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I figured...I figured you meant that."

"Really? Good."

"What if we get...um...what if we get separated? Like, would it be too real then, or..." he trailed off, "I just...I just wanna know."

Axel considered, "Well...hopefully we don't get separated. But, if we do, it might not be all bad. Hell, if Rene and I weren't forced to split up back in the Mad Lab, we never would've met."

Roxas didn't look entirely convinced, so Axel sighed and said, "Look, ideally, we stay together the whole way. But...even if we do get split up. That's not the end. Not necessarily."

"But what if it is?"

Axel sighed, "Then you run like hell right back to this van."

"And what if you're not there?"

"I'll be there."

"Yeah, but...what if you're not?"

God, it's like having a puppy that talks back.

But Axel couldn't deny feeling a weird sort of discomfort, a nice one. The kid was relying on him. Poor sucker.

"I'll be back. But, if by some wild, crazy, one in a catillion chance I'm not...you go off on your own."

"My own?" he said in a ghost of a voice, "I...I can't..."

"Kid, I thawed you out of the ice two nights ago, and you're already trudging around in the muck and speaking in full sentences. Bet there's nothing you can't do if things get too hot."

"Hot?"

"Dangerous. Risky. Wild. Crazy. Take your pick."

Roxas nodded, giving a tiny smile, "Sure. Yeah, you're...you're right. Let's go."

And off they went, trudging up the trail, the late morning sun at their backs. Birds called from the trees, singing to each other. It would've been a real pretty scene if Axel wasn't thinking what a giant dumbass he was to even be attempting this in the first place. Far all he knew, Olette didn't know what she was talking about.

Actually, that didn't even seem like that big of a leap in logic. He had absolutely no reason to believe this wasn't all just a wild goose chase. At this rate, he might as well have just dragged himself to the TPD, confessed his sins, and gotten a nice comfy cell next to Larxene so they could blame each other for this mess of theirs, like old times.

But, in the end, Larxene was locked up. And so was Dem, so was Riku. Hell, so was Sora. And here was Axel, the sole, sorry link between them all.

Lucky them.

But the point still stood. He had to help them, follow every lead he had, no matter how shaky. He was their only hope.

Poor them.

"Wait."

"Rock in your shoe, Rox?" Axel prompted.

"No..." he said, voice low, "Listen."

Axel followed his gaze back down the path from where they'd come. At first it was just the birdsong, the wind in the trees. Same sounds as ever. But there was another layer. A soft rumble, a roar. Axel realized the ground was beginning to shake.

"Aw no," Axel breathed, "Hide."

"What?"

"Hide!" not waiting for Roxas to respond, Axel grabbed him by the arm and, taking him in tow, ducked off the path and into the undergrowth, getting a mouthful of dirt, grass and other woodsy junk for his trouble.

They'd acted not a moment too soon, it turned out. The very next second, the chorus of roars became deafening, the fresh woodland air drenched with the stench of exhaust. Axel and Roxas watched from the cover of the trees as a great, dark mass swept down the path, kicking up mud still loose from last night's rain.

It was a silent procession, if you ignored the mighty, monstrous bellowing of their machines. The riders sat still as if they were built into their bikes, gloved hands gripping handlebars, visors brought down and scarfs brought up to hide their faces.

Next to Axel, Roxas was squinting, the better to keep dirt from being kicked up into his face. Probably a good idea, but Axel found he was slow to copy it. He couldn't take his eyes from the mob as it passed and, when it did, the stitching on the back of all those leather jackets.

Silver thread, worked over the black in a twisty vertical cone, spiraling inward, like a funnel cloud. Letters worked in above and below: W and M, made to look identical, but for the way they were facing, as if one had only been tossed upside down by the force of the tornado that separated them.

"Shit," Axel said again as the roars faded to rumbles, and the herd vanished from sight. At Roxas's questioning glance he explained, "Biker gang. The Wind Makers. They're sort of my kind's natural born enemies, after the cops."

"The Wind Makers." it wasn't a question.

"What, you know 'em?"

Roxas didn't answer at once, "I don't know what I know."

"Me neither, most of the time," Axel got to his feet, offering Roxas a hand to help him up as well, "But if they're here..." he sighed, "I don't get it, but it stinks. Sure, up north here, it's their territory, but I'm pretty sure this is private property."

Roxas made a tiny noise. Axel sighed, "Yeah, I know we've got no room to talk, but what I mean is..."

He trailed off, following Roxas's gaze over his shoulder, to the canopy above them, "Whoa."

Strung up above the forest floor, from trunk to trunk, branch to branch, was a little kid's dream. A rustic obstacle course, wood planks and sturdy ropes coming together to make narrow bridges, connecting tiny square platforms. Rope ladders spanning from a foot or two above the ground up into the trees, nearly out of sight.

"Guess he works out," muttered Axel.

"What's it for?"

"Well, if the name of his house isn't lying to us, he's a hunter. Guess this is where he hunts."

"All the way up there?"

"Why not? He's a dude, dudes love sniping deer where nobody can see them."

"Aren't you a dude?"

"Sure, but I get my kicks out of bikes and cars. I'm not that desperate yet," he brushed his jeans down, as if that was going to help anything, "Okay, Rox, let's get go...argh!"

In what Axel was sure made a fantastical visual spectacle, his very next step lifted him clear from the ground, thick rope walls coming up around him as the air was snatched from his lungs, bits of bark and dirt raining down into his gaping eyes and mouth as, before he knew what the hell was happening, he began to swing back and forth with a steadily decreasing cadence, like an ungainly pendulum, albeit one with a killer smile and dazzling green eyes.

Through the gaps in the netting, Axel could make out Roxas, standing about twenty feet below on the forest floor, gawping at him, "What did you do?"

"I don't know, Rox, it seemed like a good idea at the time," replied Axel dryly, "Guess we tripped the security system."

"You tripped it."

"Oh, lookie there, you can shift blame too,"

"But you did."

"Yeah, I know I did, don't rub it in," Axel sighed, "Okay, so this can't be as bad as it looks."

"No?"

"It's probably a hunting snare. Like, to catch deer and...other big, skinny things."

"And that isn't so bad?"

"Well, no. I mean, it can't be that hard to cut down if he wanted to get the deer after he caught it, right?"

"Right?" Roxas looked confused, "But, um...he wouldn't care if the deer lived after he cut it down, right? Like, wouldn't it be dead?"

"Well, yeah, he's a hunter, of course he wants it..." he paused, realizing what Roxas meant, looking down at the forest floor below him, the even smaller than usual figure of Roxas staring up, "Oh. Right."

"I mean, it's a long way down...isn't it?"

"Um...yeah," he said, feeling his lips dry up, "Yeah. It is. Okay, so let me think.."

"What about your knife?"

"Huh?"

Roxas explained, very patiently, "You know, the knife? When you grabbed me, and you put it up on my neck..."

"We talked about that, it was just an act..."

"Yeah, but it's a knife. Right?"

Axel got the idea, "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Good one, Roxas. Quick thinking. Okay, so it's in my pocket..." he reached for the aforementioned pocket, finding it harder than expected, due to the fact that his right leg was beneath and behind him, his combat boot all but making sweet love to his ear, and his pocket a few inches from where his fingertips could well reach.

"Because that would be too easy," he sighed, "Give me a sec, I'll figure it out."

Figuring it out, in this case, was a series of increasingly strained sit-ups which, due to the confinement of his surroundings, ended up cutting short just before the sit could turn to up. After several iterations of this routine, Roxas seemed to find it suitable to provide commentary.

"Um...Axel?"

"I've almost got it! Any second..."

"No, Axel..."

"Might just dislocate my arm first..."

"Axel!" and before he knew what was happening, a tiny pointy object went flying dangerously close to his nose, narrowly missing his ear, and then sailing sadly through a gap in the net to come back down to the forest floor.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded of the sheepish figure looking up at him.

"It...um...it was on the ground. I guess it fell out of your pocket."

Axel sighed, "I guess. Good effort, Rox. Just, give me a head's up next time you try to stab me."

"Well, I wasn't trying..."

"It's cool. Just...um...can you find it now?"

Roxas got to work, looking around through heaps of dried leaves, twigs and sticks and so on. After either a minute or ten, it was hard to tell, he'd returned to a spot just below the net, "Found it!"

"Okay, so...let's try not to throw it, this time."

"Oh. But I can't reach from here..."

"Maybe not. But..." he took a quick look at his surroundings, following the rope suspending his net up into the treetop to the thick branch it was knotted around. He proceeded to follow the length of the branch to the tree it began at, and then down the length of the tree a little way...

"There! Okay, so see that little platform up in the tree, there?"

"Yes."

"And...um...yeah! See over there, the ladder on that tree?"

"Yes."

"And then there's that bridge, from that tree to this one."

"Yes."

"Okay, so if you just climbed up to the bridge, I could swing the net over there and you could..."

"No."

"What, what do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean..." Roxas shifted nervously from foot to foot, "I can't do that."

"Roxas, didn't we just have this conversation?"

"Well...what if it doesn't work?"

"Then it doesn't work, we'll figure something else..."

"But what if I cut you loose and then you fall and..."

Well, shit.

"Well, then that's on me for coming up with the stupid idea in the first place."

There was a silence. Eventually, Roxas said, "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It was worth a shot."

Roxas sighed, nodding, "You're right. It is."

"Oh," he watched, not even bothering to hide his surprise as Roxas pocketed the knife and started toward the rope ladder, "Guess it is."

To Roxas's credit, he didn't put on any degree of bravado as he started up the ladder, gripping both sides in a vice grip as he started scaling his way upward, face determinedly pointed heavenward, as if to even acknowledge the ground beneath was to make sure he met it rather unpleasantly.

"Good going, kid," Axel felt it important to give the guy some much needed emotional boosters, for both their sakes, "Alright, just keep it up...almost there. Lest we forget, you made me jump off a roof, this is nothing."

He wasn't sure if Roxas was listening to any of this, or was determinedly trying to tune him out. In any case, before long he had reached the landing at the top of the ladder, frozen in a kind of disbelief at having done so at all.

"Great, Roxas! Good, that's...that's really good. So..."

"Yeah," he said faintly, looking down the length of the bridge, "Yeah, I know."

He made his way along the rope bridge, one hand on either side, taking each step about a minute at a time, acutely aware of the bridge swaying back and forth beneath his feet.

"You're doing good, kid!" Axel prompted, "You can probably...yeah, just stop right there."

And he did, right in the middle of the bridge, facing Axel directly.

"So...I'm gonna just try and swing this..." Axel found that this was easier in theory than it was in practice. One or two pelvic thrusts really only succeeded in budging him a few inches to either side.

"Just...gotta build momentum. Or, um, centrifugal force... One of those things, I get 'em confused."

"And I'm supposed to..."

"When I'm close enough..." pelvic thrust, extended gasp, "Take the knife..." another thrust, "...and cut the rope..."

"That doesn't sound..."

"We'll try it!" he gave it another go, getting a bit more give this time, "Okay, so...maybe one more..."

"Axel, I'm not sure about..."

"Now!"

And the net swung forward forcefully, bearing down toward the rope bridge, "Come on, Roxas, now!"

With a little, strangulated yelp, Roxas lunged forward, grabbing for the rope with one hand,the knife held out in the other...

Momentum, it turned out, was a dangerous son of a bitch. Axel wasn't entirely sure what happened, but the next thing he knew he was swinging back the other way, practically nose to nose with Roxas through gaps in the net.

"Oh, Jesus..." he began, breathlessly, as Roxas let out a cry of, "Sorry! Sorry, I'm..."

"Well don't start cutting it now!"

"I'm not!"

"Then what's that noise..." but he only needed to look up to realize the rope suspending them in the air was rapidly coming undone, "Aw, shit."

Thinking quickly, he turned to Roxas, "Okay. Other way."

"What?"

"Swing back!"

"How?"

"You just...you..." Couldn't blame the kid there, this wasn't the kind of thing you could just put into words, "Fuck, we're coming back."

And they were, swinging back toward the bridge, literally hanging from a couple of threads...

They hit the bridge with blunt force, shaking it on its moorings. There was a crash, a sound of splintering wood, a whoosh of air as the rope snapped clear of the tree branch, the net coming unfurled around them.

Axel felt himself falling, let out a scream, heard Roxas cry out somewhere above him, "Watch it!"

And then he stopped, feeling a hand on his. Breathing heavily, he looked up, saw the bridge had snapped, dangling from the platform above like a crude ladder. Roxas was grabbing on to one of the planks with one hand, holding him up with the other.

"Sorry," he said, looking mortified.

Axel shook his head, struggling to catch his breath, "You kidding? Thanks, man. Really."

"But...it's my fault."

"Eh," he shrugged, "It's my fault too, and if we're talking rap sheets, mine's bigger," he nodded at the broken bridge from which they were now dangling, "Anyway, it all works out. We've got a way up in case we fall."

Roxas looked at him, bewildered. Axel shrugged, "Come on, on and up."

"Up?"

"Yeah, I've got an idea."

Roxas looked no less confused, but he obliged anyway, climbing up the bridge to the landing, Axel close behind him.

"Alright..." Axel began, climbing up as well, "So, it's like a rope course, right?"

"Sure."

"A bit high off the ground, as we know."

"As we know."

"And the ground is...not safe."

"As we also know."

"Might as well continue this way."

Roxas cocked an eyebrow. Axel shrugged, "The house is on top of the hill. Not a long way. Less chance being seen too."

Roxas nodded a couple of times, still not looking sold, though he said, "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Why not," Axel agreed, "Okay, let's go."

And on they went, crossing more narrow bridges, climbing up and then down thin wooden ramps. The mountain air was cool and thin at this level. Axel could feel his ears pop at one point, which didn't do much to make him feel any better.

"The hell is this thing?" Axel asked at one point, near the hilltop.

Roxas looked the big wooden box up and down, giving the tiny black wheels a little nudge with the toe of his shoe, "Cart?"

"On a pulley," added Axel, "Probably to bring stuff up and down. We must be..."

And they were. The hunting lodge was directly ahead of them. Looking somehow bigger and smaller than it had from the foot the path, maybe because they were standing almost even with its topmost level.

"What do you think's going on?" asked Roxas.

Axel followed his gaze to the dozen or so bikes parked in perfect formation in front of the lodge.

"Rox, I wish I knew," Axel sighed, "Place like this doesn't seem like Wind Maker speed. Or Earthshaker speed. But what the hell do I know, right?"

Roxas shrugged. Axel looked at him, "You weren't supposed to agree."

"Sorry."

"Forget it, Rox," Axel sighed, "Okay. So, we're here. Now to get inside..."

"I've got an idea."

"Please."

"This," Roxas gave the cart a little shake, "We can take it."

"What, down to the ground and knock on the door?"

Roxas shook his head, "See the balcony?"

Axel looked across to the balcony that made up the southwest corner of the lodge. There was a pair of glass doors off it, leading into the second story.

"I see it. But, Rox, the car only goes up and down..."

"Not if we cut the cord," he reached into his pocket and tossed Axel's knife back to him, "I held onto it."

"Good on you," he turned the knife over ion his hand, "But, Roxas..."

"If it worked with the net, it'll work with this."

"The net was a net Roxas, this is a box on wheels."

"We can still try! Come on, Axel, I've got a good feeling about this."

"Roxas, I'm really glad you've got feelings, really, but..." but he couldn't just say no to him. It was weird but that's how it was.

"Alright. But we've got one shot at this, Roxas, and if it doesn't work..."

"Then we try something else. Right?"

"Or we fall far and hard enough to not be able to try anything ever again. Could go both ways."

But he joined Roxas in the rickety little cart all the same. Sizing up the thinner ropes holding the cart up in the pulley, Axel mused "Okay, so if we cut one that'll probably make the pulley thing go crazy...don't look at me like that, high school was hard..."

"I wasn't look..."

"So, we'll have to move really fast to swing the thing before we hit the ground and maybe then we can grab the balcony," he shrugged, "Why not? Crazier shit's happened."

"What about when we're inside?" asked Roxas.

Axel gritted his teeth, "We'll figure it out."

Roxas looked skeptical (Axel was beginning to miss his absent reasoning powers), but he did eventually nod, "Okay. Let's try it."

"Say a prayer," Axel muttered.

"How?"

Jesus.

Figuring that wouldn't be a sufficient answer, Axel added, "Just beg inside your head for this to work. It's supposed to help."

"How..."

"Hold on!" Axel sliced through one rope. At once, the cart began to drop, to pitch forward. Axel indicated to Roxas to lean forward with him, so as to swing them forward, toward the lounge.

Turned out Roxas was better equipped for that particular activity than Axel was giving him credit for. He threw himself into the front side of the cart. The one remaining cord groaned with effort, a harsh wind beating Axel in the face. They were swinging forward and swinging fast.

He scrambled to grab for purchase, let out a perhaps undignified smush up of various swears, and soon found that there was no floor beneath his feet. There was, in fact, nothing beneath him at all, except presumably the earth considerably below him.

He heard Roxas call something out, probably his name, as he sailed above and beyond him. Then, fainter, a noise of broken wood, a cry, a crash.

Axel felt the blood drain for his face, but he only had a split second to let the petrifying fear wash over him before he crashed into the side of the house.

Well, it wasn't so much crashing as sliding painfully against aggressively weathered wood. The wind was knocked out of him at once, but Axel at least maintained enough of his senses to brace himself, grasping out for any handhold he could find.

Good thing about a house made out of rustic lumber scrap, there was no shortage of knots and chips in the wood for him to hold onto. He caught himself just short of sliding past the second floor and a no doubt unpleasant spat somewhere below.

"Oh God," he panted rapidly, struggling to regain his composure, "Aw God this is...not good."

He considered calling for Roxas, making sure he was okay. After all, the kid was resilient, but there had to be a limit at some point, right?

But of course calling anything would just put the both of them in more...

"What was that noise?"

Fricking frack.

A woman's voice from somewhere below and within. A window must be open on the first floor, maybe the second, he could hear her pretty distinctly. Worse, he recognized the voice.

No surprise. It couldn't just be any random motor mob beating you to this joint.

"Noise?" a stuffy accented voice, rich and plummy, the kind some stuffy aristocrat would probably use were it not for all the prevalent stereotypes, "My dear lady, calm yourself. I hear nothing. You don't hear anything, do you, Gaston?"

The voice that replied was a lazy, confident one. Axel could imagine the smug, douchey face behind it at once.

"Nothing at all. You're just not used to the Great Outdoors, sweetie. You live here long enough, you learn when to get your hackles up."

She sounded less than impressed, "My hackles are very well trained. It sounded like something..."

"Fine, fine," Gaston sounded bored already, "I see there'll be no smoothing you over. Girl like yourself in a job like this...I'd have expected a little more chutzpah."

"Chutzpah can get a woman like me killed. I know how to take care of myself."

"LeFou," Gaston called as if to drown her out, "Have a look upstairs, see what all that fuss is."

A tiny, squirrelly voice chirped in, "Y-yes, yes, of course, sir!"

Axel tensed at once. Not much use hanging around here anymore. There was a window a little way above him. Steeling himself, he scrambled hand over hand to reach the ledge. Beyond, he could glimpse a tiny, cozy looking room, lined with bookcases, some big couches in earthy colors, one of those chandeliers made out of deer antlers.
Not much use seeing any of that, though. There was no opening the window from...

A shadow fell across the doorway of the room within. Axel caught his breath, lowering his hand at once as he ducked as much as he could beneath the window ledge.

Downstairs, the meeting had commenced.

"Now," the stuffy aristocrat voice, "We were talking terms, I seem to recall."

"We were indeed," said Gaston with a renewed energy, "Your people come to me highly recommended."

"We've earned our laurels and we don't rest on them."

"I hope so. This is no rinky dink robbery I'm asking for..."

"Good, because if it was, I'd have to ask you to find someone else to take care of it for you."

The window opened, just above Axel. He sucked in his breath as much as he could, hoping this was enough to neatly hide him from sight.

The face that peered out the window was exactly what Axel expected from someone called 'LeFou'. Tiny, paunchy face, nose about two times two big, and a practically invisible mouth worked into a permanent expression of nervous cramps.

He looked one way, then another before sighing, shaking his head. He reached for the window, beginning to pull it shut...

Axel made up his mind.

In the split second before the window was brought down fully, he heaved himself up onto and over the ledge, forcing himself through and into the lodge head first, right into LeFou who, predictably, opened his mouth to scream.

"Really bad idea, man," Axel warned, grabbing him and pressing one hand over his mouth, "I come in peace. Mostly."

LeFou made some distorted shrieking noise from behind Axel's hand. Ten to one, he was pretty close to pissing himself.

"Could you stop that? It's embarrassing."

He persisted. Axel sighed, rolling his eyes as he reaches with his free hand into his pocket, only to find it empty.

His knife had been in his hand when the cart went flying. Shit.

But he was gonna bet he didn't exactly need a weapon to quail this guy into compliance.

"Listen, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said in a dangerous whisper, "But if you start singing any louder, I'm gonna have to."

With what? Your dazzling smile?

But LeFou clearly didn't need to see a weapon to be convinced of Axel's lethal prowess. He quieted down.

"Now," Axel continued, "Can I let go of you?"

LeFou nodded rapidly, so Axel obliged him. Immediately, LeFou collapsed against the nearest sofa, hand draped over his forehead, like some fainting debutante in a glossy period film.

"Oh God, oh mercy me..."

"Mercy you," said Axel dryly, opening his mouth to ask his first question, but LeFou beat him to it.

"You were sent by him, weren't you?" he asked in trembling syllables, "The Lord of the Dead!"

"Man, what?" Axel asked flatly.

"You're one of his hired killers! Oh, I warned him, I warned him not to start any trouble! He knows everything, that's what they say, everything..."

Axel found himself confronted with a choice. He could play along, claim to actually be working with the Lord of the Dead. If LeFou was referring to their local visibly invisible crime syndicate, it shouldn't be that hard to play along.

Then again, he could seen way more places where playing along got him in a spot worse up than where he'd started, in the moment and in the long run.

"Look, man, believe it or not, I don't work for the Styx and Stones. As far as crime goes, I prefer the disorganized kind."

"Then...then what do you want?" LeFou regained some composure. Maybe he thought he could handle Axel now that he wasn't a mobster, "Because if this is a burglary..."

"I've got some questions for your boss," Axel said coolly, "That's all."

"A-and what makes you think you've any right to answers?" LeFou asked with a hint of impudence.

"You wanna get sassy now?"

"Just...just climbing into the Hunting House..."

"Real stellar name by the way, did Gaston come up with it himself?"

"My employer is a good man! Honest and hardworking. Gaston comes from nothing! Nobody, nowhere, can claim to have helped this community's economy as he has! Nobody invests like Gaston, gives like Gaston..."

"Nobody stuffs roadkill like Gaston," Axel finished, indicated the grotesquely posed taxidermy raccoon on the side table, arranged to lean sassily against a clock.

"The land around this lodge is all private property! Gaston may hunt as he pleases on it."

"Yeah, that's great, good for him. Listen, I'm no expert, but I've got a hard time believing this guy's as great as you say he is when you just admitted he's got beef with a mob boss."

LeFou turned a charming shade of spoiled milk, entering into some kind of verbal sepsis, words trampled and throttling each other with abandon.

"Never mind he's meeting with some of those bikers you respectable types are always claiming kill tourism and sully the quality of life around this place, so..."

"Gaston is a businessman! Nobody..."

"Does business like Gaston, I get it."

"And if certain...underworld elements have it out for him, it's only because he's trying to bring down their enterprise!"

"So he's looking for help from bikers," guessed Axel, "Like any legit, honest dude only looking out for the public good."

LeFou grimaced, "You are entirely..."

"Listen, man, I don't really give a shit. I already told you, I'm not here about that."

LeFou hesitated, "...no?"

"Nope. I'm looking for a name. You help me with that, I'm out of you and your boss's hair for good. Get it?"

LeFou got all shifty eyes, "What's the name?"

Axel leaned in, "Isabelle Rousseau."

LeFou bristled, "That's it, then! You're one of those reporters! I already told you, all of you, we know nothing, there's nothing more to be found..."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Gaston was shattered! Heartbroken..."

"How far up this guy's ass are you?"

"The police investigated and no evidence was found! None! We know nothing, nothing..."

"Fine. Nothing. What about another name, not a person this time. A place," he whispered into LeFou's curdled pudding of a face, "X-Corp."

If LeFou hadn't wet his pants yet, he must have now. He dropped to his knees, lips trembling, "Y-you know about..."

"You must be a hit at poker parties."

"You...you must understand," he said softly, desperately, "I told him it was a bad idea, horrible, immoral..."

"Immoral? Like, more immoral than the whole mobster thing?"

"Not natural! That's what it was, unnatural! But he was so in love with her, you see. And...and he had to have her..."

"What did he do to her?" asked Axel, "What do they do at that place?"

It was some time before LeFou answered, "There's...there's documentation. Paperwork. Gaston always keeps copies...on my advice."

"I'm gonna want to see those papers."

"They'll ruin him," said LeFou, "You must understand. He'll be ruined."

"I don't care about ruining him."

Though he wouldn't do anything to stop him being ruined if it came to that. LeFou didn't need to hear that though, and probably he already suspected that was the case. He wasn't entirely stupid, not if he insisted on keeping records.

"Follow me," he said at last, starting out of the room, "Quickly!"

So Axel followed out of the room and into the hallway. Everything was wood panels in here too, polished wood floor, cozy glass wall sconces, all turned off so that there was a disused, shadowy complexion to the whole place.

The balcony had been on the second floor, Axel remembered. In any case, there was no sign of Roxas here.

If something happened to him, if he went flying or...or worse...

He had refused to let Hayner go with them. Maybe he should've put his foot down for Roxas as well. This wasn't even his fight, his problem.

If anything, he was a victim of X-Corp just as much as Demyx, Riku, Sora...and this Isabelle Rousseau, whoever she was.

LeFou started down the stairs to the second floor. The meeting must've been going on on the first. Axel could hear them talking.

"What kind of damage are we talking about here?" her voice, cool, vaguely amused by all this.

"The sort that sends a message," Gaston said pointedly, "That silky devil thinks he's untouchable, he's forgotten who made him rich in the first place. My associate and I nearly died in his death pit..."

"The name should've warned you off," she commented dryly.

"We simply need Hades to remember we work with him," the accented voice, "Not for him."

"This isn't the first time we've hit Hades," she pointed out, "He doesn't react to much."

"He will this time. The incident at the Coliseum's weakened him. He must protect his position now, at any cost. The slightest push..."

"Here we are," LeFou led Axel into a tiny room off the second floor landing, "The study."

"What's he study?" asked Axel, noting an enormous stuffed thing in the corner, "Crimes against nature?"

LeFou followed Axel's gaze, "Gaston enjoys curiosities."

"That's one word for it," Axel looked up and down the trophy. It could be a bear, he supposed. It was big, burly, brown fur. But it was shaggier, like a buffalo, with a flatter snout, like a mountain lion or some other big cat.

Gave Axel a sickly feeling to look at it, so he turned his attention back to LeFou, who was bent over a safe that, apparently had been neatly concealed behind a mounted moose head on the wall.

"It's a tricky combination..." LeFou muttered, "numbers matched to letters..."

"The numbers spell out 'Gaston'?" Axel guessed.

LeFou sighed, "I tried to take some sense into him. He never listens."

"Most people don't," said Axel, finding himself thinking of Riku and of Saix, and realizing that that made him Gaston in this comparison. He wasn't sure which of the three of them came out of that worse off.

"Here we are," said LeFou, opening the safe, "Now, you must understand, these documents pertain to a...a sensitive business transaction. Part of a much larger web than you will find here. We are by no means the initiators of..."

"Nah, I already figured you weren't."

LeFou made as if to hand the papers over, pausing, "You must have some stake in this. Nobody would go through all this trouble without some personal benefit."

"Fun as it might be to pretend, I'm no saint," Axel agreed.

"It's the boy, isn't it?" LeFou asked suddenly, "Belle's boy?"

Axel did a double take, "Her boy?"

"He always used to follow her around. Hang around the library, him and his friends. He played this...er...well, it looked like a guitar."

Axel froze, "He liked her. Didn't she?"

"A teenage boy with a teenage crush. But Belle took pity on him. She took pity on most everything. Not Gaston, of course. And Gaston hates pity anyway..."

"Did Gaston know?" Axel asked, "About him?"

"The kid? Of course. Annoyed him to no end. But...but that was it, you must understand. He had no reason to bother himself with..."

"Just give me the papers."

LeFou suddenly seemed possessed by second thoughts, "I...I'm not..."

"You're not backing out now," Axel reached over, "The papers, or I'll take them from you."

LeFou watched him, trembling like unset gelatin. At last, he handed a manila envelope to Axel, who accepted it.

Axel nodded approvingly, looking over the envelope, the nondescript 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped over it in black ink, "That wasn't bad, now, was..."

"Help!" LeFou shrieked, "Help, help, please! There's an intruder! Help!"

"Oh, you son of a..." Axel trailed off, realizing words were of little consequence at this point.

So he settled for socking LeFou in his big stupid nose before turning on his heel and tearing out of the room, the envelope still in his hand.

The balcony should be on this floor, right? The landing went off in two ways outside the study, no clear sign of the big glass doors he'd glimpsed from outside anywhere in sight.

There was, however, the staircase down to the first floor. Not that that was a reliable means of egress, entirely due to the fact it was already occupied.

"Who the hell are you?" Gaston looked exactly as everything Axel had heard about him suggested, right down to the fou-fou ponytail and the excessive aftershave, "And what are you doing on my property?"

Axel opened his mouth to answer, finding he was inconveniently rooted to the floor. It was all he could do to manage, "...actually, the Indians were here first."

Gaston scowled, "You're not one of those tree hugging sissies, are you?"

"Now, what in the devil is the meaning of all this?" the stuffy aristocrat scaled the steps behind Gaston, proving to look next to nothing like how Axel had imagined him. Big, burly, with a lantern jaw and a nose that could could slice sandwich bread, "Gaston, the woman's near ready to walk out on us..."

"Yeah about her," said Axel, "You're probably better off finding someone else to do your dirty work. She likes her contracts the less clowns, the better."

"We've got a trespasser, Clayton," Gaston pointed out.

Clayton cocked an eyebrow, "One of Hades's?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but no," Axel shrugged, "And, hey, you want me gone, I'll..."

But it was too late.

"Shit," Gaston had noticed the envelope in Axel's hand, "You give that over."

"Ooh, big tough guy," said Axel, "I'm scared sheetless," he waved the envelope around as if to prove the point, "Jeez, that's the best you can do? No wonder you take it all out on ani..."

Gaston swung at him, his fist connecting in Axel's gut, doubling him over at once. Before Axel had time to react, he'd brought another fist down into the small of his back. Axel fell forward, head over knees, onto the steps, reaching out to catch himself on the the stair railing.

The envelope went skittering ahead of him down the steps. Axel reached out for it, fingers brushing the paper. He grasped wildly, caught it between two fingers.

"That's quite enough of that!" announced Clayton curtly as a big, hairy hand caught Axel by the back of his jacket, "I don't know who you are boy, or what you're after, but..."

Axel jabbed an elbow into Clayton's thigh, "Could you just shut up?"

"A bad mistake, boy," Clayton snarled, swinging again. Axel had had enough experience in a fight to know his strengths: running and hiding.

Against a guy this size, that wasn't just strategy, it was also necessary.

"A bad mistake," quipped Axel, ducking and sidestepping Clayton's punches, darting first up and then down the steps, attempting to outpace him, "is using..." one step, "your name," duck, "as your safe password!"

He was able to land one punch to what he supposed was the general location of Clayton's solar plexus. Teeth gritted in pain, he turned to look at Gaston, "You idiot!"

Gaston replied with an incoherent roar, thundering down the steps, eyes blazing. Axel figured he had about two seconds to get out of the way before he became a tacky taxidermy himself...

Something ran into Gaston from behind. He pitched forward, tripping over his feet, tumbling down the stairs, his roar turning into a startled, indigent cry.

Clayton barely had time to react, even Axel felt a little breathless, but had the presence of mind to duck out of the way, toward the railing, as Gaston fell into Clayton, making a two-man snowball.

He became aware of the steady rumbling of wheels on wood, a scrap, a clatter, an impossibly jubilant voice crying out, "Meet me at the bottom!"

"Holy..." Axel began, trying to process what had just zipped past him.

A wooden square, cracked and splintered, balanced on four worn wheels. He didn't have to wonder what had happened to the four sides that had once made it a cart. Anyway, such questions seemed pointless in the face of the kid balanced on top of the makeshift skateboard, riding the railing like a tailpipe, arms out to either side, face turned triumphantly ahead of him.

"Roxas, you crazy son of a bitch," he grinned, vaulting over the railing, landing on the first floor just in time for Roxas to careen off the railing, landing perfectly on four wheels on the polished wood floor.

"Climb on!" he told him.

"Will it hold?"

"Course it will," he held out his hand, "Trust me!"

Axel eyed the hand, becoming increasingly aware of footsteps from nearby, angry voices.

He took Roxas's hand, stepping up onto the board behind him. Without another word, Roxas kicked them forward, and they rocketed over the floor, through the house, toward the big front doors.

"Um...Rox?"

"It's okay!"

"But, the..."

"It's alright!"

They approached the doors and, one second before they crashed into them, Roxas reached out and threw them open. In another second, Roxas had taken them down the patio steps, skidding down the railing easy as anything.

Axel swayed for balance, holding the envelope close at his side.

"Holy shit," he panted, turning back to Roxas, "Holy shit."

They were going down the path now, away from the lodge, toward the road.

"Guess my plan worked out, huh?" Roxas asked.

"Damn right, it did! Jesus, Rox...where did you learn to do all that?"

Roxas only shrugged in reply, "I don't know!" laughing into the wind, "I just do."

Only later did Axel realize this was the first time he'd heard him laugh.

---

A/N: I guess I owe you guys some apologies for the draught of Sora and Riku the last couple of chapters. This story is still about them, of course, but I try to balance out each character's story. Just like Squall was gone for a while before recurring in several chapters lately, so the same is happening to our boys. I can promise you'll definitely get to see them next chapter, up next week.

Until then...