CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

"This place is not safe anymore. He will find me. Follow me, Roxas. Follow mother. She will show you where to go."

.o.O.o.

Leon and Cloud were on their fourth cup of coffee, table spread with papers, the many inventory notices from the past weeks, and even months. They trawled through them, one by one, tracing the various missing materials in an attempt to find a pattern, perhaps a trail leading to the culprit. The dining hall was quiet, the shuffling of paper the only sound, the clearing of throats, the low noise of porcelain touching down on metal. They sat side by side, pens and pencils littering the tabletop, a scribble here, a circle there, piles made and then pulled apart by a separate set of hands seeking the same answers.

Leon grabbed a sheaf resting by Cloud's elbow, started shuffling through. The blond glanced up from his own work, stared blankly for a moment. "I just did those."

Leon paused, glanced down at them. "I can't see anything on them."

"I did it light. Look closer."

Leon squinted. "How – how fucking light did you do it? How am I supposed to know what's been taken, and what's been left?"

Cloud was irritated. "I did it like that so that when I double check, there's no mistakes. I was going to do it darker the second time around. It's called being thorough. But now you've messed it all up." He tossed down his pen, leaned back and crossed his arms with a huff. His hand snaked forward a moment later, snatched up his mug and peered inside. "I need more fucking coffee," he mumbled.

"Right, because Cloud on more caffeine is just what we need," the brunet muttered. He slid his own cup over. "Get me one, too."

Cloud jumped up, went over to the kitchen wall, filled their cups from the pot, added sugar. He gazed moodily over at the windows, the darkness held at bay, the stars blotted out by the brightness of indoors. "No wonder you didn't think it was me," he called, stirring hard, spoon clanking the sides of the cup. "It looks like it was done by fucking – fucking squirrels or something."

"Thus the term 'squirreling away'…" the deep voice rumbled back. Cloud snorted, tapped the teaspoon on the edge of the mug, carefully, wiping away any drips. He carried both drinks back to the table, stifling a yawn, rubbing his eye with his wrist while trying not to spill. Leon glanced up, grunted his thanks as Cloud placed it in his hand, turned his eyes back down to his work. Cloud sat, stretched his legs out straight, breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. He slid down a little to get more comfortable, the hot mug clasped between his hands, perched upon his chest, steam rising up and smelling richly. Leon flicked a look over.

"You know, you don't have to stick around if you're tired. Go to bed."

Cloud shook his head without shifting his position. "Nah. I'm just resting a little til the caffeine kicks in again."

"You have no obligation to do this," the other man reminded him, setting his mug down, turning slightly in his chair. "You know by now that no one holds you responsible."

"So? That doesn't mean I don't care." Without opening his eyes, Cloud manoeuvred the coffee up to his lips, took a searing sip. He hissed lightly, lips pulling back from his teeth, and settled the cup back down. "I want to help. I want to know who's doing it."

Leon studied him openly, unafraid while the blond's eyes were shut. "I guess it's okay then," he murmured. "Just as long as you're not doing it for the wrong reasons."

Cloud sighed. "I'm tired of doing things for wrong reasons, Leon." The blue eyes flashed open, directed at the ceiling, Leon darting his gaze away before he got caught. "I spent a lot of time doing things for the wrong reasons, and, funnily enough, they always got me to the wrong places…"

"Like ending up with Sephiroth?"

Cloud stilled, expression slackening. There was a beat of silence. Then, softly, dully, "What makes you think he was wrong in my life?" Leon's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Maybe the fact that you ran away. Not to mention some of the things that Zack said..."

Cloud scowled, still staring at the roof. "What did Zack say?"

"What does it matter, as long as it was true? You think Zack would lie about something like this?"

Cloud turned sullen. "I don't know. Zack gets weird sometimes. Thinks things are funny that – "

"I assure you, he wasn't being funny," Leon said curtly. Cloud huffed.

"What do you want me to say, Leon? I'm not going to put Sephiroth in the 'wrong reasons' category. He deserves better than that."

"Why? Because he's dead?" Leon raised an eyebrow. "What if he was still alive, Cloud? Would you call your relationship with him a right thing?"

"What the hell gives you the right to ask me a question like that?" Cloud snapped, sitting up sharply, head swinging down, eyes becoming glaring slits. His coffee sloshed, sending a burning wave of black out over his pants. A tight second passed, then Cloud was up and swearing, holding his mug high in one hand while the other brushed his thigh frantically. "Motherfucker! Damn it, Leon! Now look what you did!"

"I didn't do anything," the brunet said mildly. "You're the one that spilled coffee all over yourself."

Cloud paused, glared fiercely. "Only because you were being such an ass! God, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What, I can't ask a simple question?"

Cloud blinked, laughed with shrill incredulity. "Simple?" He glowered suddenly. "You have no idea what my relationship with Sephiroth was like, no matter what Zack might have said. You had no right to ask me that."

"I'm a friend, aren't I?" Leon countered. "This is bothering you. I've seen you playing with that necklace when you think no one's looking. I'm just trying to find some answers."

"Answers that don't belong to you, Leon," Cloud seethed. "Like you said, you're my friend. Those sorts of answers don't belong to friends."

"Who, then? If I was your boyfriend would you tell me?"

"Sure! Why not!" Cloud threw up his free hand, stalked away from the table, over to the sink to slam the mug down and snatch up a cloth. He lifted one leg, leaning against the counter as he roughly scrubbed at his wet thigh. "Thing is, Leon, you and I aren't boyfriends, so hey, that solves that dilemma!"

"So you're saying, if you and I were together, you'd – "

"Leon." Cloud snapped his gaze over to the man, cold. "You're missing one vital flaw in that reasoning. You're not my boyfriend. So you can't ask those questions. It's no concern of yours what was going through my head when I was with Seph, or whether anything's changed now that he's dead. You don't know anything about that period of my life." He straightened, threw the cloth back, left his cup where it sat. "And hey, guess what? That's not going to change." He stomped across the room, heading for the door, while Leon sat back at the table, staring at the page in front of him. He frowned, pulled his chair in, and picked up his pen, as Cloud reached the doorway. When the footsteps didn't continue, didn't fade down the hall, Leon glanced up again.

Cloud was gripping the doorframe, head stuck out into the corridor. He hovered there for a moment, before pulling back, looking around at Leon with a bewildered look. "I just saw Roxas go by – didn't Aerith say she'd locked him in Axel's room?"

Leon paused, nodded slowly. "Yeah. She did." He got up, walked to meet Cloud at the door. He stepped out into the corridor, just as Vincent came floating past, cloak silently twitching in his wake, footsteps hushed and graceful. He barely glanced at Leon. "He sleep-walks," the thin man said quietly, without pausing. "I want to see where it takes him."

Leon and Cloud met gazes, equally baffled. "Uh – should we come, too?" Cloud called softly after him.

"It would be best if you didn't. You're too heavy."

Cloud's eyebrows sprang together indignantly, turning with a frown to Leon, who had to fight to keep the smirk from his face. When the blond's expression became sullen, he said, "Well, you do wear large boots."

"He meant you too," Cloud hissed. Leon shrugged. They both watched until the sleep-walker and his watcher disappeared. "How did he even get out, I wonder?" Cloud's fingers drummed the doorframe thoughtfully. "I'll go check to make sure everything's okay, I think…"

Leon's hand caught his elbow, halting him. Remembering his previous ire, Cloud turned on him, mouth thin. "Is there a problem, Leon?"

"Vincent said not to follow," the brunet answered calmly. Cloud's eyes narrowed.

"I'm aware of that. I wasn't going to follow them. I was going to check out Axel's room. I want to know how Roxas got out."

"Maybe Aerith forgot to lock," Leon suggested.

"I doubt that," the blond replied shortly. "She was too worried to forget a thing like that. Now, if you don't mind." He jerked his arm free, stepped out into the corridor. "I'm going to check on Axel's room, then go to bed."

Leon frowned. "Wait. I'll come with you."

Cloud sighed, started walking without waiting for the other man. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Who said I was babysitting? I'm curious, too."

Cloud shot him a sceptical look, but made no further objections. They went side-by-side, following the hallways to Axel's room, neither saying a word. Their boots, as Vincent would have feared, clomped loudly, both men too heavy for light motion outside of a battleground. "I apologise," said Leon suddenly. Cloud hesitated, glanced over, faintly suspicious.

"For what?"

Leon was quiet for a moment. "For being intrusive. I never meant to upset you. I wasn't aware that I was overstepping my bounds."

Cloud snorted. "Yes, you were."

Leon blinked, then nodded. "You're right. I was aware of it." He tilted his head to one side. "I guess I just wanted some answers. It'd be nice to see you happy for once."

Cloud's step faltered, eyes darting to the brunet and away. "I – I'm happy enough."

Leon shook his head. "Not enough for my liking. I saw a glimpse of it when Zack first arrived, and I liked it. It was nice to see you… unburdened, for once. I hadn't even realised how bad you were until that moment."

Cloud's expression drew into a slow frown. "Why is it… that when you say things… you sound like the leader of the Restoration Committee?" At Leon's questioning look, he clarified, "It's like you're trying to talk to me as a friend, but all I can hear is – this order to be happy. You want me to be happy, but it's like you want to force it out of me."

"Of course I do." Cloud blinked. "I'd squeeze it out of you if I could, if I had to. I don't need your permission in the matter. But," he shrugged, "since it's your choice in the end, there's not much I can do in the way of non-consent. I just have to wait around for it to happen."

Cloud laughed a little. "You'd wait around, would you? Waiting for me to cheer up."

Leon dipped his head in affirmation. "I would. I'd wait. I'm waiting."

The blond shook his head, scratching it briefly. "That's… not what I was expecting from you," he confessed.

"What were you expecting?" Leon asked mildly, curiously. Cloud was silent for several steps.

"Sephiroth," he said, truthfully. Leon frowned sharply.

"Excuse me?"

"I was expecting you to – be like Sephiroth." Cloud's gaze became distant. "He would have forced it out of me. The answers, the happiness… He'd have kept chipping away until… until there was nothing left. No resistance. He'd have kept going until… until he won."

Leon processed this, nodding slightly. He said, "It's not a competition, Cloud. I'm not asking you this stuff in order to know everything about you. I'm not trying to lay you bare." He gave a small, rare smile. "I was just interested. I guess I'll just have to respect your silence. Sounds like it'll be a novelty for you."

Cloud's eyebrows lifted, and for once, he didn't take offence. "Yeah," he said softly. "Maybe." He smiled faintly, as they reached their destination. "I have to admit, it's been nice, finding some – independence these last few weeks."

Leon's expression softened. "I'm sure that it – "

They stopped. Stared. The words curled up and died inside of Leon's mouth, crumbling away, mind suddenly blank. Cloud's lips parted, eyes wide, eyebrows knitted. He stepped forward slowly, leaving Leon standing with his shock, and ran a hand slowly over the doorframe to Axel's room. It was – splintered. Scratched. Hacked. Shattered in places. He turned his head, meeting Leon's gaze. "What the hell happened here?"

The brunet shifted cautiously to the doorway, laying a hand on the other side of the frame, and together they peered in. Cloud was the first to move, entering carefully. Leon grabbed his shoulder, making him glance back with a frown. The man's fingers tightened momentarily, before releasing. Cloud continued, Leon close behind.

The room was a wreck. The bedclothes were shredded, the wardrobe ruptured, spines of wood stabbing out from gaping holes. A keyblade jutted out from the wall beside the door, driven deep. "Holy freaking shit, Leon," Cloud breathed. "What did that kid do?"

The brunet was inspecting the door. "Looks like he just – split through the lock. Look at the damage here…"

Cloud's eyes were fixed on the handle of the keyblade. "He's psychotic…"

"He's never displayed this sort of behaviour before…" Leon swung around. "Didn't Vincent say he was – "

"Sleep-walking!" They stared at each other. "He did this while he was asleep? He's asleep?"

"Cloud," Leon murmured, tossing his head slightly, "look."

The blond twisted. On the far wall, illuminated by the wedge of light that had spread with Leon's prodding at the door, lay a message. The second keyblade lay discarded on the bed, the writing device. A dust of wood and stone coated the sheets. Carved above them, two words: Follow mother.

They stared for a long minute, neither saying a word. Then, quietly, Cloud said, "I sure hope Vincent knows what he's doing."

.o.O.o.

When Roxas opened his eyes to the playground, he found himself alone. No mother, no red-haired or blond ghosts rushing around – but then, it was night, after all. All the little phantoms would be tucked up in their ectoplasm beds by now.

Roxas sighed. He looked around at the disintegrated equipment, and thought he could almost hear the squeak of hinges from the rusty swing-set. He wandered over, feet sliding through the sand, the chill of darkness settling in his bones. There was no one sitting in either of the swings. They weren't even moving. But somehow, he was sure that they would be… or should be… or something… This place was beginning to look familiar, but… Roxas couldn't figure out why everything felt so… wrong.

"Roxas."

He turned, surprised, as she simply walked into existence, drifting in from beyond the playground's limits. Roxas couldn't see her legs moving, or her feet. He was sure that, under that long white dress, under all those obscuring layers, mother's bones had constructed themselves back to what they once had been. A skeleton had come to visit.

"Mom?"

She halted in front of him, a hand reaching out, glove shining in the moonlight. "This place is not safe anymore. He will find me. Follow me, Roxas. Follow mother. She will show you where to go."

Roxas eyed the appendage uncertainly. "Where are we going, mom?"

"Mother will show you where to go."

The blond looked up, staring hard at the veil, the unmoving white veil, beyond which her face was supposed to lie. Her fingers stretched a little farther, urging him to take hold.

"Be a good boy, Roxas. Take mother's hand." Roxas hesitated, then extended his arm, clasped her hand. Her grip tightened instantly. "Follow mother."

She turned, Roxas coming to her side, and hand in hand, they crossed the playground. "Who will find you?"

"The bad boy sickens us. The playground is no longer sacred for mother."

"Tell me who he is," Roxas commanded, turning to her with a frown, the sand passing under his feet. "I can help you if you tell me."

"It is not allowed. Hush now. We are leaving. He will find us if we are loud."

Roxas' mouth snapped shut, bewilderment coursing through his veins. He was cold, and worried. Someone was trying to hurt his mom? Why? Who would hurt her bones? Why couldn't she just – rest in peace?

Why couldn't she leave him alone?

Her fingertips dug into his knuckles, as if the thought had been heard. Roxas winced, hurried to keep pace with her, her gliding steps. The ends of her clothing fluttered behind her. They exited the playground, stepping out onto the footpath, and the sensation of familiarity deepened. Roxas' breaths quickened, eyebrow drawing low as he glanced around.

"Where's Axel?" he muttered. "Axel's supposed to be here."

She didn't respond, tugged him along. They passed deep into the city.

.o.O.o.

Roxas' bare feet padded along the hallways, jeans slung low, t-shirt rumpled, hitched up slightly at his armpits. His hair was a mess, fingers dotted with splinters of wood, with blisters. His step was staggering, loose, wobbling from side to side in an exaggerated, jerky fashion. Occasionally, he would slump against the wall, as if tired out, and mumble to himself. Vincent stayed at a cautious distance, the words inaudible, though his curiosity urged him closer. He remained where he was, not wanting to disturb the boy any further than he was.

Roxas was heading towards the castle's outer limits, a section that, to the man's knowledge, the teen hadn't seen yet. However, despite this, despite his obvious handicaps, despite the shaky, aimless wandering, Roxas was steadily making his way towards the upper levels. Vincent followed softly, hands by his sides, eyes fixed upon the drunkenly swaggering back. At one point, the blond lurched, slammed into the wall, fists pounding once, hard, slurring, "Where's – Axel? I want – Axel!"

Vincent halted, cloak swinging at his ankles, waiting and watching. Roxas muttered for a minute, sometimes louder, sometimes barely breathing the words out. At last, he pushed back up, swaying, and continued on. Vincent resumed his vigil, feet tapping quietly.

Roxas found a balcony, fumbled with the locks on the door, forehead knocking into the glass rhythmically, making it shudder. Eventually, his slumbering consciousness figured the latches out, and the door swung open, letting in a gust of frigid air. Roxas stumbled out, fell straight into the tall rail, wrapped his hands around the stone and stretched up onto his toes, leaning out dangerously. His eyes squinted, mouth hanging open. Vincent shifted to stand alongside him, slightly out of the boy's line of vision, ready to grab him if he tipped over. Roxas' head tilted from one side to the other.

"I can't see it," he snarled, each word slipping into the next. "I'm not up high enough. I can't see. I can't seeee." He twisted from side to side, head dropping down onto the rail, hitting it hard without care. Roxas' mouth curled up. "Fuck. Fuck. Ffffuck." He let out a sharp sigh, pushed back from the rail, wheeled around and peered up at the sky. Humming thoughtfully, the boy nodded. "Up. Up. Higher."

.o.O.o.

Roxas' footsteps were loud, his breaths, his heartbeat. They were the only signs of life in the entire city. Everything was deserted. "Mom, where are we going?"

She didn't reply. He stumbled slightly, rubbed his head with his free hand. "I don't feel so good," he breathed suddenly. He dropped to one knee, his other hand continuing forward, jerked painfully at the shoulder. He let out a low cry, catching himself before he could fall face-first onto the pavement.

"Roxas must hurry. The bad boy sees us."

"Mom," the blond snapped, "who is the bad boy?"

"Mother cannot tell Roxas. Roxas has to rise." She pulled him sharply. "Get up, Roxas!"

He gave a grunt, hissed through his teeth, brought one knee up and pushed off from it, clambering heavily to his feet. She was already walking again, his hand released, drifting ahead. Roxas shook his head in frustration, followed after her. "How many times do I have to ask where we're going?"

"Roxas must follow mother. No more questions. Roxas will obey his mother."

Roxas hung his head, did as she said, too tired to keep arguing, too sick, tired and sore. A hot flush was creeping up from his chest, crawling through his neck, curling around his ears and spreading spider's webs through his face and eyes. He reached up to touch his eyelids, walking blindly for a moment while he pressed lightly, trying to take away the burn. "Mom, I don't feel well."

.o.O.o.

They sat upon the lower roof, high above the world, the chasm surrounding the castle dropping away on almost every side, a gaping mouth running like a moat. The wind was stronger up here, both the blond spikes and the long dark tresses blowing back, Vincent's cape swirling slowly, snapping every now and again. The sky was black, the stars burning. The castle's lone weathervane creaked nearby.

Roxas sat quietly, hands on his knees, legs drawn up, staring fixedly down at the collection of lights that was Hollow Bastion. He shivered uncontrollably, skin like ice, though beads of sweat induced from the climb continued to trickle down his skin. Silence reigned, ticking by, minute by minute. Roxas' mumbling, his ceaseless motion, his jittering, subconscious frustration, all had subsided, leaving him like stone, trembling rock, gazing at the city as if waiting for the answer to life's greatest mysteries.

Vincent inhaled, felt the chilly air enter his chest, amber eyes shifting slowly across the horizon. He closed his eyes briefly, turned to face the blond teen, opened them and studied him curiously. Roxas didn't twitch. Didn't fidget. Barely blinked.

"Do you like the view?" Vincent asked, voice a low, quiet rumble, a knife through the stillness. Roxas didn't react, breathed slowly, waited and watched. "Roxas?"

"I watch for mother." Quick, breathless. Eyes shivered slightly from side to side, then settled, refocusing on the distant point of twinkling lights.

Vincent's eyebrows rose fractionally. At last, some kind of response. The first sign the boy had given of knowing that the thin man was even there. His interest renewed, he asked, "Why?"

"The bad boy sickens us." Each word tumbling quietly into the next, the slur gone, a sense of concentration to him. "The playground is no longer sacred for mother."

"Who is your mother?" Vincent knew the boy's history, had learned about him from the others and the computer. He knew that Roxas was an orphan taken in by DiZ as part of the Twilight Children program, and that the boy was also aware of this fact. There was no mother to watch for.

The boy didn't reply this time. "Roxas, are you listening?" This sleep-walking was intriguing. Never before had the dark-haired man come across such intensity in subconscious form. He wondered what it was that he was looking for, in this darkest back corner of his troubled mind. "Roxas?"

Softly, the boy urged, "Ssh." A finger rose to the blond's lips, pressing briefly in emphasis. "She is speaking." He stood slowly, Vincent rising also, eyes narrowing, hands ready again to keep the teen from plummeting. He wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps he should have cut this performance short at its beginning, upon seeing the boy come bursting dazedly out of his room, pausing only to draw back and stab his weapon hard into the wall.

Roxas peered down, swaying back and forth. "I can't see it from here."

Vincent decided to call a halt to this. He reached out, wrapping his metal fingers with gentle force around the boy's arm. "Roxas. It's time to go in."

"I can't see."

Vincent stepped close, took hold of the boy's chin with his other hand, twisted his head to face him, the blue eyes distant and glazed. Vincent was surprised he could see anything at all. He looked a million miles away. "Roxas, it's time to wake up."

Looking directly at the man, the blond said, "Mother, who is the bad boy?"

Vincent frowned. Roxas was caught deeply inside this web. Perhaps his best option would be to remove him by force. Carry him, conscious or otherwise. Considering the unpredictability of his behaviour, the man was counting on the latter.

He released the boy's face, snapped his gloved fingers sharply, giving him a sharp shake to try and clear away the fog. "Roxas. Wake up."

.o.O.o.

Roxas was huddled on the side of the road, rocking slowly back and forth, tears leaking silently down the sides of his burning face. His knees were curled up to his chest, shoulder digging into the dirt, gasping for air. His eyes were scrunched shut, teeth bared in quiet agony.

"Roxas. You have to get up. You have to follow."

His jaw clenched tighter, fingers digging in. The heat was overwhelming, the world turning white at the edges, sweat drenching every pore, every inch of his body. Small pinpricks of light exploded and fell away in front of his eyes, and all he wanted was for her to bend and hold him, and tell him he was going to feel better soon. Instead she stood, motionless, several feet away, waiting impatiently.

"Follow mother."

"I'm – trying," the boy croaked. "But I – feel – sick, mom."

"Mother understands. Mother also feels it, creeping, creeping. Creeping through us, twisting. But mother cannot stay, and neither can Roxas."

"Mom, I can't. I can't stand up."

She appeared suddenly beside him, claws wrapping around the back of his skull, yanking him to his feet. Roxas gasped in pain, eyes flying wide. Her fingertips dug into his scalp, piercing just ever so slightly. Her veil was only inches away, frightening the boy, whatever curiosity he'd harboured for what lay beyond it withering as he cowered. He didn't want to know. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, mom. I – I'll try to be good."

"…Roxas is always good." She loosened her hold, stepped back slightly. "Follow me. I will show you where to go."

Roxas nodded reluctantly, took a step after her, and found himself on the roof staring into the face of Vincent Valentine.

He took a deep breath, and screamed. Startled, Vincent jerked back, eyes widening. His other hand came around to grip the boy, keeping him steady on the narrow peak of the section of roofing. "Where's mother?" the boy shrieked, before falling suddenly silent. He swayed in the wind, hands reaching up to clamp onto Vincent's wrists, terror in his eyes. His head twisted to the side, and he whimpered, legs weakening sharply. He buckled, was caught by the taciturn man. "Where am I?" he mewled, close to tears, breaths hard and shallow. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Just keep calm," Vincent advised quietly. "I'll get you down."

"Oh, my God," Roxas moaned, realising abruptly where he was. "Oh, man."

Vincent shifted closer, wrapping an arm carefully around the blond's waist. "Are you afraid of heights?"

Roxas laughed quickly, a hysterical noise. "No! I spent my entire life eating ice cream on the clock tower!"

Vincent stared steadily for a moment. "Are you awake now, Roxas?"

Roxas hitched in a breath, buried his face into the man's shoulder. Vincent could feel him shaking, from the intense cold, the fear. "I did it again? Oh, man, I want Axel right now. Yes, I'm awake."

Vincent nodded, tightened his arms around the teen. "Just hold on to me. I'll get you down from here."

"How did I get up?" the blond asked, voice cracking. Vincent chose not to answer, picked Roxas up so that his toes dangled towards the ground. Roxas tensed. "Wa-wa-wait, how're we getting down?"

Vincent launched himself from the thick tiles. Roxas' ankles met each other at the man's back, legs whipping around to clamp, fingers digging deep, gasping quickly, without sound, as they seemed to fly through the air. He could hear the man's steady heartbeat, the rustle of his scarlet cloak. Only seconds passed as they descended from the roof to the balcony, but Roxas died a thousand small deaths. A heavy jolt, Vincent landing gracefully, bending his knees, trying to accept Roxas' momentum as well as his own, ankles twisting, lowering sharply. He let Roxas bump the ground, and gently let go, waited for the boy to realise he was safe. Roxas continued to cling, blue eyes impossibly wide.

"You can let go now," he said in his low voice. "It's safe."

Roxas let out a single, dry sob, and unlatched all limbs at once, dropping them to the floor. Vincent, suddenly lighter, straightened slowly, eyes never leaving the boy. Roxas' eyes turned up, stared at the sky, lips twitching, panting. Vincent smoothed himself down, then offered a hand out. Roxas saw it, stared for a second.

"It's okay," the man reassured quietly. "I'll take you to the dining hall. We'll get you some coffee. Leon and Cloud were there not long ago – there will be some already made up. You don't need to go back to sleep yet."

Roxas closed his eyes, jaw clenching. He inhaled brokenly. "My ribs – really hurt. Everything hurts."

Vincent was momentarily surprised, before realising that yes, despite the boy's earlier acrobatics, he was still injured. As if the bruises weren't reminder enough. He nodded slowly, reached down and hooked his hands carefully under the teen's arms. Together, they got him up to standing, where he hung heavily in the man's arms, head low.

"I'm so sick of this," he said faintly. "I just – I just want to sleep."

Vincent waited until he could hold himself steady, kept an arm around him, not trusting the boy to not simply collapse after the first two steps. He was still shaking badly, the physical stress taking its toll.

Vincent pretended not to see, as Roxas surreptitiously wiped away one glinting tear after another.