As he pried his eyes open, unwilling to accept that it was morning so soon, Axel couldn't decide if this was the best kind of hangover or the worst. There wasn't a single bit of him that didn't hurt. His hips were sore. His shoulder was throbbing. His ribs were on fire. Not an inch of his body was spared. It was a long moment before he remembered what had happened, and he very nearly let himself regret the events of the previous evening. But as he came around and discovered that he was lying beside Saïx, curled up in his arm and with his head resting on his chest, he couldn't bring himself to resent a single second of the aches and pains. He carefully lifted his head to steal a glance at his companion's face, astounded to see that his eyes were closed. The man didn't stir even as Axel cautiously rose from the bed to admire him further. It was a rare and welcome surprise to find him looking so peaceful. For once — probably the first time in who knows how long — Saïx was sound asleep.

Axel hobbled toward the window and perched on the sill, welcoming the relief of the cold glass against his skin. It was hard not to stare at Saïx while he slept. The man was changing. It was more and more noticeable with every visit. He was more handsome than he used to be. His sharp jawline, his soft, fair skin, and his silky blue hair were more pronounced. The look in his eyes had shifted from looking bored and lifeless to intense and thoughtful. There was no longer contempt and bitterness in his voice. He was a completely different man. In him, Axel saw more Isa than ever before.

But he could admit that Saïx was not the only one who was different. Axel had become aware of his own changes as well — the new feelings he'd thought were long gone, the brighter tones in his vision, the new clarity in his mind. He'd forgotten what bliss felt like. How pleasurable happiness really was. How wonderfully jarring it was to look at something — or someone — and find it beautiful. Find him beautiful. It had been so long. Far too long.

Saïx began to stir after a while. Moaning sleepily, his eyes slowly fluttered open, wandering around before settling on Axel as he casually watched from the window sill.

"What time is it?" he whispered hoarsely, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Time for you to give us all a vacation."

Saïx rolled his eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. "How long have you been sitting up there?"

Axel grinned. "You were sleeping."

"You were watching me?"

"Maybe," Axel hopped down and staggered over to join Saïx on the bed, far more energetic than he ever was at this time of day. Saïx winced as he watched him, sighing heavily.

"You're limping."

"Did you dream about me?"

"Lea…"

"Okay, yes, I'm a little sore," Axel admitted, weary of Saïx's continued guilt. "That means it was good. I regret nothing."

Looking almost relieved, Saïx swung his legs over to get out of bed. Axel crawled over and caught him, slipping his arms around him from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. Breathing in the exquisite scent that only Saïx carried made him all the more impossible to resist, and Axel couldn't stop himself planting a kiss onto the man's neck. He felt the resulting shudder traveling down Saïx's spine and the sudden tension in his musculature. His posture seemed to melt as he relaxed into Axel's touch, clasping his hand as it rested against his chest.

Saïx stared contemplatively into space. Although there wasn't a sound in the room, there was an overwhelming noise in his ears. A chorus of conflicting voices stuck in a looping argument, perpetually battling for his attention. He was engulfed in memories from the previous night. Still high from the sex, still shaken by the dream, still fighting the lingering echoes of emotion, still taken aback by the dazzling sight of Axel smiling at him with such affection on his face. His eyes were bright and friendly, no different than when he was human. That same broken frame that only hours ago had writhed and bucked beneath him was now draped over him so gracefully, so delicately. The man was as lovely as he always was, bruises and all.

"Talk to me, Isa."

Axel's voice interrupted him from his trance. A glance at the clock informed him that it was nearly time to go downstairs, but the last thing he wanted was to leave. Not while he was so comfortable, wrapped up in such warmth. He would have stayed there forever if fate allowed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't need to talk," Axel answered matter-of-factly. "I'm lending an ear."

With a subtle grin and a quiet exhale, Saïx brought Axel's wrist to his lips, kissing it gently before rising to his feet. He dressed in silence, leaving his friend waiting for a response, unsure that he would even give him one. How could be possibly describe the sensations he felt? The room looked different, yet it was the same room where he visited Axel for years. Saïx had been in that bed more times than he could count, yet it felt softer this morning. Axel himself seemed different, but not a single feature had changed. He wondered if perhaps this was what the world looked like when one could sleep.

"I'm not sure I can articulate my thoughts at this time," he muttered, hoping his excuse might satisfy the man's curiosity for the time being. It was at least an honest one.

"Try," Axel insisted. "Say the most basic thing on your mind. No matter how simple it is."

Saïx lowered his eyes in thought, sorting out the mess in his head. It took several seconds for him to pull out one coherent observation. "I feel something."

"Indigestion?"

Humor always worked. Saïx laughed quietly, appreciating his friend's attempt to lighten the mood. "No."

"An emotion?"

He hesitated, unsure if he was ready to admit it out loud. It's just Lea. You could always talk to Lea. He took a breath. "I believe so."

Axel's voice was brimming with anticipation and poorly-concealed excitement. "But it troubles you?"

Saïx waited, thinking. "I'm not sure."

"Do you know what it is?"

There was a long pause while Saïx tried to identify it. It didn't feel like any one emotion. It seemed to be a mixture of several, and he couldn't make out any individual feeling among the many. "No."

Axel's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked his reaction with a more curious tone. "Is it good?"

Saïx, growing impatient with the questions, adjusted his appearance in the mirror, preparing to leave. Axel stood up from the bed and approached him cautiously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"You haven't offended me. I need to get downstairs."

He headed for the door without looking back, only stopping when Axel called his name.

"Isa…"

Saïx froze, warring internally with whether or not to stay safe and leave or to be vulnerable and turn back around. Every natural instinct he possessed told him to go back and take the man into his arms and never let him go. But that instinct argued loudly with the nagging voice in his head that told him to open the door and run as fast as possible. There was no question that he was feeling an emotion — one that he hadn't felt in many years. He no longer recognized it, but whatever it was, it was more powerful than any he'd ever experienced for as long as he could remember. It was biting him, stinging his skin, burning him up. At the same time, it was caressing him sweetly, lovingly. It was loud and grating, but also soft and soothing. It was every color, every temperature on every spectrum, bursting into vibrant flashes of light before his eyes. The conflicting sensations wrapped him up in such an intense and beautiful agony that he was certain he'd lose himself in the pain and the bliss.

With all of his willpower, he turned around and faced Axel, staring directly into his eyes. It was the first time in his life that he'd ever felt intimidated in doing so. He drank in that feeling, that electrifying apprehension. He coaxed himself to take a step forward, and then another, until he was just inches from his old friend. Neither man could read the other's face, nor could they think of any words to say. Still, the message was loud and clear for both of them. Saïx took Axel by the chin and drew him in, kissing him deeply.

Axel knew the kiss was coming yet still was woefully unprepared for the sudden heat of Saïx's lips on his own. He swooned, fully prepared to collapse to his knees as he drank him in. Ever since Saïx had entered his room the previous evening, it was like stepping into a different world, a different time. They were younger, happier men. They were in love and nothing else mattered. Now, Axel could only wonder if all of that would cease the moment he let the man walk out that door. He couldn't bear the thought, and as he stood there, frozen, locked in another life-altering kiss, he held onto Saïx for dear life and refused to let him go.

Sadly, after a few moments Saïx broke the kiss, resting against his forehead and caressing his cheek. The searing intensity of his stare was almost frightening in how powerful it was. For once, it wasn't cold and it wasn't bitter. As sinister as the man could seem, as haunting as his eyes appeared, Axel knew that behind the mask of stone was Isa, and he had the privilege of catching a brief glimpse of his old friend before he reluctantly left the room.

It was ten minutes before Axel grew too restless to stay in his room any longer. He needed new air to breathe, fresh sights for his tired eyes, more space to think. He struggled into his coat and headed out the door, wandering the halls in a daze and letting his thoughts speak uninterrupted. At this point, he couldn't really decide what he and Saïx were. Their relationship had been all over the map, up and down the spectrum of drama and chaos. Walking away from him all those years ago was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but at the time was convinced he'd been left with no other choice. They'd have both gone mad staying together as they were. They didn't have hearts. They couldn't love each other anymore, no matter how hard they tried, and pretending was only hurting them. He thought they were better off that way, separated and free.

But now, reflecting on all they'd been through these past several months, Axel began to wonder if perhaps he was wrong. All those weighty conversations, the bitter arguments, the sex so raucous they may as well have been seventeen again. That evening after Saïx's berserk attack, listening to him confess that he missed being Lea and Isa. Even the previous night, holding each other so tightly as they lost themselves in pleasure. The two didn't just have sex. They made love. The difference was unmistakable. The look in Saïx's eyes, before, during, and after, could not be interpreted any other way. Something had changed between them, and perhaps, Axel thought, it was time to re-examine that choice — or mistake — he'd made back then.

He'd been so lost in thought that he had no idea where he was walking until he found himself at Roxas' door. He raised a fist to knock, only to freeze in place before making his request. Roxas could be asleep. He could be in the shower. He could be busy. Maybe he wasn't even in there. Axel's anxious mind dredged up excuse after excuse, pathetic enough that he chided himself for entertaining a one of them. He took a breath, slowly, so deeply that his ribs ached, yet he felt no less tense after he'd exhaled. Stalling was getting him nowhere. He lifted his chin and knocked.

"Yeah, come in."

The door opened and he shuffled inside, wearing his nerves on his sleeve. Roxas was lying in bed, writing in his journal. They exchanged half-hearted smiles, their minds both full with other matters. Right away he could feel the crushing weight of the heavy air in the room, could read his friend's face like a book. The silence must have only lasted a split second, but felt like an eternity while both waited for the other to break it.

Speak, you dumbass!

He cleared his throat. "Heya, Roxas."

There was no change in the boy's expression. "You're not supposed to be out of bed."

Axel scoffed defiantly, shooting him a playful smirk. "And what are you going to do about it?"

The wall between them crumbled to bits. Roxas grinned and set aside his notebook. "What's up? Are you doing better?"

Axel sighed with relief, limping to the bed and taking a seat. "I've got good days and bad days," he shrugged, wincing at the twinge in his shoulder. "How about you? How have you been feeling?"

The beat that followed was all the answer Axel needed, but Roxas spoke anyway. "I'm alright."

Axel skeptically crossed his arms as best he could. "I'm not convinced. What's up, man?"

It was so like Roxas to conceal the truth of his discomfort. Of course the boy would keep his head up and power through. He was just that way. But that wasn't good enough for Axel, and Roxas knew he'd been cornered. He drew out a sigh and spilled. "I'm tired, Axel. I'm so tired. I feel like hell. I'm tired of it all."

He wasn't done, and was grateful that Axel didn't interrupt. There was so much more to say. He could talk for hours if allowed. He'd been holding it all in for so long, and he tried to sit up so that he could meet Axel face to face and say his piece with some conviction. It was hard to even maneuver himself to an upright position. He could barely support his own massive weight with his weak arms. He struggled, scooting and lifting inch by inch until he was in place, refusing Axel's outstretched hand. No more coddling. He didn't need any help.

He made it, all on his own, huffing with exhaustion and thoroughly satisfied with the accomplishment, then pressed on with his monologue. "Everything hurts," he declared purposefully. "I feel dizzy and nauseous. I can't sleep. I'm at my wits' end."

Roxas anticipated guilt. He wasn't surprised by guilt. Axel's compulsion to placate him was as typical as anything else he ever said. He'd have expected the same response from anyone. But it still annoyed him. Guilt served no purpose. It changed nothing, solved nothing. As far as Roxas was concerned, it was a useless emotion, and he was tired of seeing it on everyone's faces day after day.

Axel cringed. "Hey… maybe Zexion can help you—"

"You know what makes it all worse?" Roxas cut him off, the agitation rising in his voice. "Being stuck here alone all day. I have no one to talk to. Nowhere to go. The only other face I see is my own hideous reflection."

Every word came from deep inside him, and he spat them out with all the pent up anger and hurt he'd collected behind them, propelling them with the force of his frustration. Something in his chest was racing, heat was rising in his face. It was almost exhilarating to get mad. Anger had never felt more justified than it did in that moment, and he truly needed it. "I can take feeling miserable all day and night, I can handle the pain, but I can't stand the isolation. I'm so goddamn lonely, Axel. I hate it. I hate all of this. I am so enormously, infuriatingly, hopelessly tired."

For a moment, Axel wondered if he ought to say anything in response. Nothing he could come up with would ever make up for this. Look at him. Look him in the eyes. The boy was waiting. His expectant look demanded a response, and it was Axel's turn to answer. "Roxas… I'm so sorry…"

As much as he hated the never ending fountain of remorse, Roxas hated seeing the man looking so downcast even more. Maybe Axel deserved to be chewed out for his neglect. But they were best friends. Without him, Roxas would have no one. His hardened expression softened as he wrestled with his own sudden flash of guilt. "Don't… I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"You have every right."

"No," he insisted. "I should be leaning on my friends. Not pushing them away."

Axel reached for him to lay a hand on his shoulder, glad that he didn't flinch. "Nothing you say could push me away, Roxas. You're my best friend. I told you I'd be there for you and I meant it."

Roxas supposed Axel could never truly understand what he was going through. No one really could, and it was unfair to expect that anyone would have any idea the suffering this experiment had wrought. There was so much more to the loneliness than just being left isolated in his room. Over time, he was aware of his own identity being swallowed by the beast he carried. As well-meaning as they might have been, the others were beginning to see him as only a vessel. Every conversation was about the experiment, the pregnancy, the entity. It was all anyone wanted to talk about, and yet when Roxas needed to commiserate, their first suggestions were to send him to Zexion to be coddled or confine him to bed to die of boredom. Just dump him off somewhere. Make him someone else's problem. He could have been surrounded by his comrades and still have felt just as lonesome.

He shouldn't have been surprised — he could feel all of their anxiety almost as strongly as they could. He made them nervous, and he could live with that, but he couldn't resent them for it. As good as it felt to be angry, it felt better to set it aside. The thrill was invigorating, but it hurt just as much as the loneliness. Roxas wasn't through with Axel — the man had a lot to answer for — but for the moment, he was just as tired of the rage as he was of anything else.

"You want to go up to the clock tower?" Axel asked with brighter eyes. "Have some ice cream like old times?"

Roxas wanted nothing more, but slumped at the suggestion. "Saïx will never let us go."

Axel wasn't taking 'no' for an answer, and was already climbing off the bed and extending a hand for Roxas. "He doesn't have to know."

"You're gonna get us in trouble."

Axel scoffed. "I guess you're right. We'd better be careful or he'll throw us out of the Organization."

With a wink and a grin, Axel had him convinced. Roxas took his friend's hand and let himself be pulled out of bed. They made it to Twilight Town without incident, having avoided Saïx quite easily thanks to Axel's cunning. The climb up the clock tower was taxing, but well worth the taste of the ice cream, the view of the setting sun, and the fresh breeze on his skin. Just as it had always been, they sat together without a word, just watching the sky and eating their ice cream. Roxas let himself bask in the elation — the first he'd felt in months. He no longer questioned his ability to feel, nor anyone else's. It didn't matter anyway. He'd enjoy it for as long as it lasted. For once, he was just happy to be on that ledge again. Happy to know that these days weren't gone. Happy to be with Axel. Happy to be happy.

The sudden strike of melancholy was shocking enough to catch his breath in his throat. The fullness in his eyes, the tightness in his gut — it all came out of nowhere, rendering him speechless. The emotion was so powerful that it clouded his thoughts and he failed to recognize at first that it didn't belong to him. He turned to Axel, the only other soul in the vicinity. He wasn't watching the sunset. He wasn't eating his ice cream. He sat with his head down, staring at the ground, biting his lip in a desperate attempt to conceal the obviously forlorn expression on his face.

"Axel, what's wrong?"

His head shot up, unprepared. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Roxas pressed him. "You look really sad."

"Oh, uh," Axel scratched his head. "I was just thinking, is all."

Another deflection. Whatever it was, it was hurting him deeply, and Roxas wanted nothing more than to help, but he knew he wouldn't be getting any further explanation from him. Seeing no point to more prodding, Roxas backed off and left him to his thoughts.

He'd long since finished his ice cream bar, thrilled that the entity hadn't been upset by it. Finally, there was no pain, no nausea. Not even an indignant punt in defiance of the cold temperature. Roxas had foolishly taken for granted the simple pleasure of enjoying his favorite dessert, having missed it dearly when that privilege was gone. At last, he was allowed this small joy right when he needed it most, and for just a brief moment, he stifled his resentment of the creature to make way for a glimmer of appreciation after its sudden show of patience.

"Hey, Axel?"

"Hmm?"

"When are you going to tell me what really happened to you?"

Axel cringed, leaving his friend hanging while he considered how he'd ever be able to explain the incident. "Roxas, I… I'm not sure you'd understand…"

"Try me."

Part of Axel would have rather jumped off the clock tower than unbox the tangled mess of his relationship with Saïx and attempt to make sense of it for Roxas. Surely the boy was too young to understand all of those complicated emotions anyway. But Roxas was stubborn as ever. Axel knew he wouldn't be budging on this, and he could only hope that he'd find it in himself to have an open mind and accept the facts as they were. After a long breath, he began his story. "I got hurt… in battle," he kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he confessed. "With Saïx."

"What?" Roxas gaped at him. "Saïx did this to you?"

The can had been blasted wide open and the worms were all spilling out. There was no turning back at this point. "Yes. He berserked and attacked me."

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "I don't understand."

Axel expected as much. There were parts of it he didn't even understand himself. He still didn't know why Saïx berserked that night, and he supposed he might never find out. The confused and almost angry look on Roxas' face wasn't making the explanation any easier, but he figured he'd feel the same way if he found out that the kid had been hurt by someone believed to be his friend. The thought alone turned his stomach so violently that he felt dangerously nauseated for a second.

"Roxas, have you ever seen Saïx berserk?"

Roxas didn't answer right away, at first dropping his head with a contemplative look. "Yes… Yes, I've seen it before. I thought that was just one of his abilities?"

"It is. But sometimes it just happens for no reason, and he can't control it."

"And he doesn't even recognize his own friends when it happens?"

"I think he does," Axel sighed. "I just think that whatever forces are controlling him are stronger than his own will."

The man was picking at his ice cream stick, stripping splinters of wood from it one by one and watching them flutter away in the wind. He waited for some time before working up the nerve to resume the discussion. "I got to him too late. I was trying to bring him back. I'm one of the few who can do it without pummeling him, and I'm the only one here who knows his fighting style well enough to have any chance at surviving a confrontation with him."

Something was buzzing incessantly in Roxas' mind, nudging him, demanding his attention. It was an unfamiliar image that flashed by without warning. Much like those memories he didn't recognize. The ones Axel refused to clarify. "You should let me do it, Axel," he said persuasively. "You might not be healed up enough when it happens again."

"Are you crazy? In your condition, he'd wipe the floor with you."

Roxas was insistent. "I can take him. I've already beaten him once—"

The buzz in his head grew to a deafening volume, screeching in his ears until his vision darkened and he felt dizzy. In an instant he was flooded with more pictures he'd never seen. He was turning away from a man and a woman he didn't recognize. He was sulking on a cobblestone path in a town he'd never been to. He was approached by a pair of boys his age. They looked so familiar, but their faces were out of focus, almost completely blurred. Who were they? Why did he feel such warmth in their presence?

"Roxas?" Axel prompted him, throwing an arm in front of his chest to prevent him falling. "Are you okay? Are you having one of those—?"

"No, no, it's not that," Roxas answered hastily, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "My head hurts. I got this sudden… rush of memories again."

"What are they memories of?"

The scenes continued to play, jumping through from beat to beat. Roxas was battling one of the boys while the other stood off to the side watching. The air was light and cheerful, and he could sense that there was no danger in this memory. He could just barely make out a hauntingly familiar grin on his opponent's face, and could have sworn he'd heard that laughter before. But no matter how hard he concentrated, the fog wouldn't clear away and the images wouldn't sharpen.

"Sorry," he sighed, defeated. "It's all a mess. I can hardly make any of it out."

Axel patted him on the back. "It's okay, buddy. Anyway, you don't have to worry about me. I can handle Saïx. Gotta protect my comrades, you know?" His face seemed to change before adding, "Gotta protect him, too."

Axel had bowed his head once more, searching inward with an expression Roxas couldn't place. He softened, somewhat touched by the cloud of emotions wafting from the man. They were mature and complex and twisted in knots, well beyond Roxas' comprehension. "You really care about him."

Axel looked him directly in the eye when he delivered his confession. "Roxas… Saïx was my best friend."

Roxas was predictably stunned by the revelation, having never met two men more obviously incompatible by his standards. His mind raced with questions, but he pursed his lips to let Axel continue.

"Things are complicated now. They have been ever since we joined up. But I'll always care about him," he tugged at the front of his coat, grasping absentmindedly at his chest as he spoke. "When you get that close to someone, Roxas, those feelings will never go away, no matter how hard you try to forget them."

In a way, Roxas could see the progression of Axel and Saïx's history plainly on the man's face. Axel was in the past, walking through a series of memories so clear and so powerful that Roxas could only imagine what they contained. Some were blissful and happy, while others were devastating and painful. He watched helplessly as his friend sat there, living out each one in succession, increasingly curious about the events therein. Roxas came to wonder what Saïx had been like in the past for Axel to have been his best friend, to carry such vivid memories and strong emotions along with him for so many years. He wondered what Saïx's Somebody was like, and what had turned the man's Nobody so cold. And he wondered what had happened between them that had destroyed their friendship.

"You two must have had something really special," Roxas remarked. "If those feelings are so strong that they stuck with you even after you lost your heart and became a Nobody… then maybe they weren't meant to be forgotten. Maybe they belong there."

Axel returned with a weary smile. "I appreciate that, Roxas. But it's just not the same anymore."

"Maybe it isn't supposed to be. Maybe things can never go back to the way they were before, but who's to say that two people who care about each other can't find a new way together?"

Axel was silent, giving Roxas a long, peculiar look. Unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. "Damn it, Roxas, how do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"The things you say just… man, they really hit me hard. It's like you know exactly what I need to hear. I don't get it!"

Roxas shrugged. "For all I know, I'm a hundred percent wrong."

"No," Axel shook his head. "No, you're right. A hundred percent right."

Saïx was easy to hate. He was a cold, callous jerk on even his best days, always hyper-critical and impossible to please. It seemed that no one in the Organization really liked him. They merely respected his role in the grand scheme and otherwise just tolerated his presence. Roxas very nearly felt sorry for the man upon the realization that they had something in common — loneliness. But as contemptuous and irritable as he was, there was something about him that awakened something intense and potent inside Axel. Something that lay dormant for many years. A sensation so pleasurable that it hurt, and at the same time so painful that it felt good. Whatever it was, it made Axel's story all the more tragic, knowing that no matter how strong a bond they shared, no matter how deep and beautiful their friendship was, they'd grown apart. Whether it was the loss of their hearts, or just the cruel test of time, that bond was broken, and that relationship dissolved. Roxas could scarcely imagine an experience more painful than to lose one's best friend, only to have to see them every day and pretend that all the memories weren't still fresh in their mind.

"Axel… I hope that no matter what happens, we always stay friends," he wished aloud. "I lost a lot of my memories, but I know I'll never forget about you."

Roxas knew he'd made a mistake the moment the words had left his mouth and he caught the mischievous grin on his friend's face. "Oh no…"

"So…"

Roxas held Axel at arm's length, attempting to halt his slow approach. "No, don't say it!"

"You mean…"

"I take it back!"

"You've got it…"

"Axel!"

"Memorized?!"

Axel trapped Roxas in the crook of his elbow and playfully ruffled his hair, cackling maniacally as his prey struggled in his clutches. Laughing along until it was hard to breathe, Roxas finally shoved the man off of him. "You're obnoxious!"

For some mysterious reason he didn't care to ponder, those words brought tears to Axel's eyes. Still giggling, he turned away, feigning interest in watching the tram driving along below them while he frantically worked to restore his composure. Thankfully, Roxas hadn't noticed, and eventually, the two made their way back down the clock tower steps after having spent at least two hours taking in the sunset. They dawdled as they made their way back into town, reluctant to go home. The Castle, the Organization — they reeked of foreboding and discontentment. Every day it seemed the floor sank another inch under the weight of their stress, their fear and their dread. The moment they reentered their haunting abode, they would dive back into the madness. Axel would return to the ache of his injuries and the heaviness of his emotional torments. Roxas would return to the discomfort and malaise from the experiment, and the loneliness of bedrest. They had enjoyed their little escape, and loathed that it had to end so soon. After all, neither could say with certainty whether there would be another one.

"Hey," Roxas queried as they trekked down Station Heights toward the Tram Common. "Does Saïx like ice cream?"

"Yup."

Roxas sat with that response for a moment. Saïx could taste ice cream just like the two of them. He could appreciate it just as much as anyone else. It was either a testament to the mouthwatering delight of sea-salt ice cream, or to Saïx's latent humanity. If even he wasn't spared the dessert's merciless temptation, then perhaps he was not so different from the rest of them. Perhaps he wasn't as cold and disdainful as he seemed. And, perhaps it was time for Roxas to re-evaluate his judgment of him.

"Let's bring him one," he suggested. "Maybe he'll be less mad about us taking off."

Axel beamed at him, so happy that Roxas almost didn't recognize the man behind the smile. "That sounds like a great idea."

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who reads this story. Since it's my first, I just have so much love in my heart for this one, it's like my child. I can't wait to show you what I have in store. 3