Notes: The individual parts of this fic don't actually fit together in any sort of chronology. I point this out because this part is very specific - it has an exact time and place - and in no way follows the events in part one. I said there'd be nine lives - I never said they'd be liner.

Also, just to reiterate, unhappiness abounds for eight-ninths of this fic. So, um, don't expect anything to end well for a while. They'll get it right eventually, I swear!

II. Spring of '44

March 10th

"You're doing what?"

Roxas crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest and held his ground in the face of Axel's shock and distress. "I just said it, Axel - I'm volunteering for another trip overseas. In case you hadn't noticed, there's still a war on and they need field medics. I can help."

"You're doing enough here on the home front," Axel shot back immediately, just as stubborn and twice as upset. "Don't act like you're sitting around being useless. We're both doing our part as it is."

Roxas shook his head. "It's not enough, Axel. I can't... I can't just sit by with the knowledge that I could be saving lives out there."

"Roxas, the last time you went, you didn't even really see combat. You've never held a gun." You could die.

"You don't get it, Axel, I need to go." He frowned and his eyes compelled Axel to please just understand. "It's important."

"And we're not?" It was a low blow. Axel knew that. But he was already hurting and filled with dread for the grief he was sure was coming. "Eight years is a lot to just throw away like this, Roxas."

Roxas' eyes widened slightly and he bit into his lower lip sharply. "So, if I go we're finished? Just like that?"

And Axel just couldn't keep that up. His resolve crumbled and his shoulder slumped with defeat. "No. No, of course not. You know better than that, Rox."

"You think I'm going to die. You've already given up on me." His hands clenched and unclenched uselessly at his sides, but Axel couldn't quite get himself to close the distance between them and take Roxas' in his arms where he'd feel safe. They weren't safe. Maybe they never had been.

"No, I haven't." He shook his head. "I couldn't give up on you, Rox, not really."

Roxas sighed heavily and finally stepped closer to wrap his arms around Axel's waist and rest his forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry, Axel, I just... I have to do this."

Axel sighed, too, and hugged Roxas tightly, like the world was ending. "I know, Rox. I just wish you didn't."

April 4th

Roxas was unusually quiet at breakfast. Not that he was a mile-a-minute talker usually, but that morning he wasn't really talking at all and it was strange.

"What's going on, Rox?" Axel finally asked softly, setting down his cup of coffee. No sugar, there hadn't been sugar in awhile.

Roxas sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. "I got a letter yesterday. I'm... I leave on the tenth."

Axel went very still. It was a good thing he'd set the cup down already, or he would have dropped it and made a mess and they really couldn't afford to buy new cups. "I-I see."

"Yeah," Roxas said slowly, his hands compulsively clenching and unclenching like they had that night when he'd told Axel he'd volunteered to leave. "But things seem to be getting better, you know. I'm sure I'll be back before you even feel like I'm gone."

Axel tried to smile, but it was weak and sad and a little bit broken. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll hardly have time to miss you."

Roxas' front teeth sank into his lower lip and then, in an instant, he was around their small dining room table and in Axel's lap, arms around his shoulders and fingers digging into his shirt. "I'm sorry," he murmured against Axel's neck, like a fractured litany. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Axel clutched at Roxas' shaking shoulders and buried his face in Roxas' hair and murmured back the only response there was, "I know, I know, I know."

May 2nd

Dear Axel,

You'll be glad to know that so far this has been pretty boring. I've done a lot of sitting around, some keeping a journal in case someone inexplicably wants to know what it was like for a volunteer field medic, and not much else. My record of not really seeing battle is holding strong!

I have to tell you that it won't last much longer, though. I don't want you to worry, Axel, please don't, but something big is coming up soon and I have a feeling I'm going to finally be sent out. But I'll be okay. I'll finally be doing what I've been trained for. And then I'll come home and the war will end and everything will be fine. All right? All right.

You better be taking care of Nami while I'm gone. The last thing my little sister needs is to be left all alone right now. Without me around, you're what she's got for family and I want to hear nothing but praise for how wonderful you were. And don't let my plants die, either. I worked hard to get that garden to sustain life, if you kill it I won't speak to you for at least a week. That's a promise.

And take care of yourself, too, Axel. Eat properly (well, at least do your best, I know how the food situation is) and sleep enough and don't smoke too much. I'm not there to take care of you if you get sick and we both know you can't even handle a head cold gracefully.

There are a lot of other things I want to write, but, well, you understand, right? You know it all already.

Yours,

Roxas

May 21st

Naminé looked very young and very fragile, sitting across from Axel in the sunny little corner diner where they were having weak coffee and mediocre cherry pie. It was hard to believe, taking in her pale face and big eyes, that she really was nineteen. She'd been just a little wisp of a kid when Axel had met her, back when he and Roxas were still new to each other and still figuring things out. She was the only one in the entire world who knew that there was more to them than good friends and roommates. She was also the only one who knew how much Axel was hurting with Roxas overseas.

The understanding in her eyes made him want to scream.

"He'll be fine," she said softly. "He has to be."

"Yeah," Axel replied faintly, dully, picking at his pie. "Definitely."

"And then," she continued, "when he does get home, we'll make him stay home all the time, to make up for his being gone so long."

It was hard to be upset with her when she was trying so hard to make everything seem okay, so Axel managed to force a wan smile. "You'll back me up on that?"

"Of course." She smiled back and it felt like a punch in the stomach because her smile reminded him of Roxas.

June 11th

Axel knew there was something very wrong when Naminé came to his door, shaking and paler than usual and obviously fighting off tears. He knew what that expression meant; he'd seen it a dozen times before. But that was something that happened to other people, always to other people, and his mind refused to make the connections.

"A-Axel," she whispered hoarsely, holding out a crumpled letter printed on official-looking letterhead. "It's... he..."

Every inch of Axel's being cried out for him not to take the letter. If he didn't take it, if he didn't read it, it wouldn't be real and everything would still make sense in his world.

He took it anyway and hadn't even finished the first sentence before he sagged against the door and started to cry.

Only three words stood out. Only three words mattered.

Killed in action.

-

End Note: If you're not a history person, 6 June 1944 was D-Day at Normandy. There were over 6,000 US casualties.