Hi guys! *Dodges rotten Tomato*

OK I get it, I'm late. Really late. I'm sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I'm heading into exam territory so it might be a bit of a wait. It's late because I'm working through some heavy personal stuff right now. No deaths or anything but I've been going through a lot. That's all I can offer you in explanation and my most humble apologies.

The prisoner no longer had any idea how much time she'd spent locked in the dungeon. Then again she didn't have a lot of ideas about a lot of things any more. Ideas got her hurt. Her memories and the truth were dangerous As long as she was here thinking was ill advised. It was safer to accept his rules, his ideas, his law. Everything else was wrong. Including her. Especially her.

Except that might not be true. He wasn't hurting her at the moment. And that meant she'd done something right. Maybe. Or it could mean more mind games. That was beyond her at the moment. What she could treat as the truth was only what she could observe directly. And what she observed in this moment was that she felt well rested for the first time since she'd arrived here. He'd turned the light off and left her to sleep. And given her a blanket. Soft and warm and comforting to look at. Unlike everything else in the room. In fact she felt warm and comfortable for the first time since she'd got here, and as long as she shut her eyes she almost felt safe. It was a good change. For now.

She was wrapped in the blanket at the moment flat on her back. It occurred to her that now might be one of the few chances to inspect whatever damage had been done to her, maybe fix some of it before he had a chance to hurt it more. Though she doubted there was much fixable damage, it would all have to heal on it's own. If it got a chance.. She steeled herself and peeled the blanket away from her skin, letting the cool air kiss her pale skin. The prisoner rapidly concluded that she was in awful shape. She was thin, thinner then she'd ever been. Not quite skin-and-bones but unless her circumstances changed quickly she soon would be. Below her neckline she was a patchwork of purple and yellow, bruises ran up and down her emaciated form. And she hurt now that she thought about it. Most places ached with the echoes of his cruel beatings. Except for where the machine had had it's way with her, there she felt... wet?

A wave of revulsion swept through her at the thought, but the physical ache remained. The machine was a horrible device of torture. It wasn't supposed to leave her wanting. She wasn't supposed to long for it's insidious influence. Yet she did. In fact she could feel that she was wet with desire. And then she realised the horrible, twisted duality that the machine created. All the pain it caused was psychological... and self-inflicted. It was her own thinking and guilt that had meant it hurt her. Physically, it felt unbelievably good. And while she'd been in that chair, she'd come to accept unbelievable levels of physical stimulation as a fact of life. It became routine. And while it hurt her afterwards, it still felt good at the tie, until she had come to expect it. Now it was only noticeable by it's absence. In fact now that she thought about it, it was all she could think about. The ache. The desire. The need. It took all thoughts of pain right out of her head, while she tried to remember the intimate and many place the machine had touched her. She lay like this for several minutes, reliving the intense sensations burned into her memory. She sighed aloud as the desire rose within her, and discovered that she'd been absent-mindedly been stroking herself. She let her thoughts wander again. Wherever he tried to lead her thinking it always wound up back with the machine. Eventually just thinking about it no longer sufficed. Before she could fully comprehend what her body was doing her hand was already down where she ached and two fingers were doing their damnedest to fix it. It wasn't enough. Two became three. Her other hand dove for her clit, rubbing and tweaking. After that it was only a matter of several hot minutes before she began to contract and convulse, last, long, low moan echoing into the dark. Afterwards there was guilt. And pain. And then a long, uneasy sleep.

When she awoke, she became acutely aware that she was not alone. The Smiling One was here. Sitting at a small portable table, watching her. Across from him was an empty chair, a plate piled with the most delicious looking breakfast she'd ever seen set in front of it. She regarded the whole thing with a wary eye. Surely this was another one of his games.

"Come, pretty one, I won't hurt you. You must be starving. Why don't you eat? Afterwards we shall talk about what will happen to you next. But at least come and eat." This was definitely one of his games. And she would play because he was always right and because the food was good. And lastly because she wanted to feel, just for a second, like she might be human. She knew she wasn't, but she wanted to be.

So she went. And she ate, carefully and slowly to avoid throwing it all up., while he watched on impassively He had given her no implements to eat with, so she used her fingers. When she had licked herself clean the talk started almost immediately.

"How was the food?"

"Good thank you... Master." She remembered only at the last second that she was supposed to use the honorific. If he noticed the slip he didn't show it.

"Alright pretty one, you may have noticed that you have been rewarded."

"Yes, Thank you Master."

"Do not thank me, it is your doing. You have learned well. You have earned the right of choice."

"What?"

"What, Master ." He corrected

"Sorry, Master. What is the right of choice Master?"

"The right of choice is the right to decide your immediate future. You get to make the choice."

"What choice is that Master?"

"The choice is simple. Either continue living with me the way you have until now or..." He held up a hand for emphasis, "Save yourself. Show me that you are worth all the effort I invested in you. Become my concubine." The prisoner mulled it over for a moment. Barely. This wasn't a choice at all. She would do what she did best and in return he wouldn't hurt her. There was no way she was going back to the pain. And a life of pleasure... well he had told her that pleasure would absolve her of her sins. Now that she had thought of it, it became apparent that this had always been his intention. Everything he'd said had been leading up to this. He'd also known she wouldn't say no. Everything he said was true.

"I am yours, Master."

"I am pleased to hear it pretty one but this is a choice that cannot be made by words alone..." He stood up slowly and unzipped his fly. "...show me that you choose to be mine."

The prisoner knew what he wanted. She also knew that she wanted to do it. There was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that said she didn't have to do this, that there was someone else she belonged to. Who though? She had betrayed everyone except her master. She was unworthy of love and could not herself feel it, so why did it feel like she shouldn't do this? She forced it out of her mind. She wanted this. With her body, with her mind and with her tarnished soul.

He tasted of salt and salvation.

He watched her, stoic as ever, while she worked him. When he finished he sprayed his seed over her face and in her hair and told her to leave it to dry. Then he praised her for her choice and left her again, with a vague promise that she could begin her new life shortly. She went back to her mattress and lay down, and felt at the collar around her neck, dreaming of a day when she was no longer chained in this dark place.

She didn't have long to wait.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew was that a hand was shaking her gently awake. It was odd to be touched in a non-violent way.

"Get up, it's time to leave this place, pretty one." The Smiling One's voice was at it's most angelic with a very obvious undertone of self-satisfaction. Though the prisoner felt dirty and sore and somewhat puzzled, she got up almost immediately. "Stand still," he commanded her. Then he walked around behind her. She heard the clanking the chain and then a small mechanical click. Then more clanking. Next came a hand on her shoulder and a warning to keep dead still. She obliged. There was a loud mechanical whine from behind her neck that she assumed was a drill or a saw. A couple of second of metal-on-metal screaming and the collar around her neck fell away. She waited until the whining stopped to rub at the chaff marks it had left in her pale flesh.

"That wasn't too bad was it?" He asked. She shook her head, her voice failed her. This was a happy moment. She was worth something.

"Now we can move you to your new quarters. I'd also like you to wear this." He held something up to her, it was a strip of red leather with metal studs embedded in it. Another collar, a nicer one. It even had what looked like a name-tag on it. The small metal plate was blank though.

"Yes Master."

He seemed to smile just a little more as he put it around her neck and fastened it.

"It looks good on you." It was a statement of fact on his part.

She sighed happily. She was getting out, she couldn't care less about the collar. Though it was beautifully light compared to the one from the dungeon.

"Alright, let's go."

With that, he lead her to her salvation.

Escape didn't even cross her mind at this point. Neither did the fact that there might be a universe where she wasn't… well whatever the hell she was.

Following behind him, she ascended the stairs that had taunted her for so long and left through a door that mere hours ago might as well have been at the north pole. And predictably and anticlimactically, they emerged into the glaring white light of... more fluorescent lights. Oh well, at least it was an improvement. Squinting in the glare as her eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination she could make out... doors. Many doors. About ten doors. Well twelve if you counted the double doors. She was in a hallway. The walls were white, the roof was white and the floor was green linoleum. Maybe. And in this hallway, or more accurately segment of hallway, she could see that there were many identical doors to the one she just came through. This segment of hallway was marked by two sets of double doors, big ones, at either end of the space. They seemed to have some heavy locking mechanisms on them. All this pointed to one thing. She wasn't alone. And no matter how much it went against her better judgement, she had to ask.

Meanwhile The Smiling One had moved two doors down the hallway and was busy unlocking another door. The prisoner shivered and hurried up behind him.

"Master?"

"Yes, pretty one?"

"The other doors..."

"Ah, come now pretty one. You didn't dream that you were my only guest did you?"

It was at that moment the prisoner realised she could hear something other than the buzz of the lights. It was one of those sounds that could have started just then, or might have been going since the dawn of time. It was distant and it was feint but it was most definitely screaming. And more than one person at that. The prisoner's blood turned to ice. Goose-bumps swept over her body. She suddenly wanted to be out of this hallway.

Fortunately, ahead of her she heard the click of a door unlocking. And the door The Smiling One had been standing in front of swung open. He turned and gestured her inside. She warily sidled up to the doorway, but soon found herself gaping in awe at the paradise that lay beyond.

It was an average living space with white décor. There was a bed. There was what looked like a kitchen. There was a door. A door might mean a bathroom. And everything looked comfortable. There were furry rugs and fuzzy bedspreads and cushions and chairs and everything she had missed. The prisoner broke down crying. It was all too nice for her. She sobbed. And she sniffled. And above her the Smiling One watched on.

When she recovered sufficiently, she turned and looked at him.

"Master, this is much too nice for me..." He cut her off.

"Which is fine, because it's not just for you, pretty one. Here, you go inside and settle in. I'll introduce you to your new companions in due time."

"Yes Master, Thank You Master." The prisoner said, relieved that she was not being rewarded above her station. She quickly entered the room, feeling fuzz and softness between her toes. Behind her she heard the door clang shut, leaving her perfectly alone in her perfect world of white.

Leon was frustrated. Incredibly so. Something was different this time. He just couldn't see what yet. He could feel it though, a slight twinge in his brain whenever he saw the cards. Something had changed. Something had definitely changed. Yet everything was the same.

So he sat with the twelve cards that signified all he had on Prophecy, and stared as if there was something much deeper to them that only he could see. This was bad. Don had just come back with bad news. Really bad. They were screwed.

The witnesses were dead. How the fuck had Prophecy done it? While they weren't looking he'd tracked down and assassinated three out of the only four people on the planet who knew what he actually looked like. The fourth witness was in hiding. Rightly so as it turned out. The worst part was the hit list had to have been taken from the police records. All of which were now missing. Fuck. Fucking fuck. FUCK. Something smelled awfully like rotting fish and he'd find out what it was if it killed him. And right then something within Leon snapped. The connection between his mind and his body broke, and his mind left for a simpler happy time where he wasn't the only hope of catching the sickest motherfucker on the whole damn planet.

Selphie was worried. About Leon. About the case. About herself. She was in this mess well over her head. She looked over at Leon again, he was still staring intently at the cards as if they held all the answers. Maybe they did.

He'd been like that ever since Don had come back with bad news in bulk. The three poor witnesses were dead. The worst part was the horrible subtlety with which it had happened: Rikku Lamb, killed in a tragic car accident. Camilla Paine murdered in a mugging gone wrong. Yuna Hope and her husband burned to death in a house fire. They all looked accidental. It was only when viewed in light of the present case that it began to take it's nasty shape.

Leon didn't improve. Leon didn't move. Selphie had to force him to eat and drink. He wouldn't sleep. Leon was somewhere else. His body was here but his mind was somewhere and possibly somewhen else. She watched for as he sat and meditated and deteriorated. On the first day it was weird but she let him wallow. It might just same them all. She wasn't sure what she could do for the case yet, but she knew what she could do for Leon.

When she arrived at Mickey's office the door was already open and Mickey was staring out the window. She knocked twice on the door frame.

"Chief?"

"Come in Selphie, I've been expecting you."

Selphie was surprised to hear it, but didn't make a sound. Instead she trotted over to one of the vacant chairs that sat across from Mickey's desk. When the chief swung his chair around however, she did gasp. The chief of police looked awful, his face was pale and washed out and there were dark rings under his friendly brown eyes.

"It's Leon isn't it?"

Selphie nodded.

"He's pretty messed up right now. This case means so much to him and he's just lost his best friend. Fucking hell. Selphie, I know he looks bad, but he's in there. I know it. You've probably come to ask if I can do something?"

"Chief..."

"The answer is you."

"What?"

"You're what I can do for him. I can't do anything else. If I take him off this case, or make any move to separate him from it, it will kill him. Never mind that you're the most qualified person for the job, right now you're the only officer I have that has any kind of counselling training."

Here Selphie moved to interject but he silenced her with a wave.

"Yes, yes I know. You're a criminal psychologist. You get inside the bad guy's head. Well on that long resume of yours it mentions that you did take a few counselling courses, particularly in relation to post traumatic stress disorder. I figure, even if it's just extra credit type stuff, you've got more chance of fixing Leon up then the rest of us."

Selphie's mouth opened and closed. A few times. She'd almost forgotten that she'd done those courses. She certainly had no idea how to begin on fixing someone as fried as Leon was now.

"Yeah I know it's not fair on you. Goddamnit I love Leon like a son and the shit life has put him through is simply not fair. The fact he kept going all these years is even more unbelievable. Now I'm asking you to try your best as a human being and as officer of the law to help him get through this. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, sir." The chief's eyes softened.

"Thank you detective."

Selphie left feeling every bit as scared and conflicted as she'd gone in. How the hell was she supposed to do anything? Leon was a zombie at the moment. She could almost see that he was constantly thinking about was the case. And with no breakthrough forthcoming he might just not recover. In fact that was what would help Leon more than anything she could say. A genuine breakthrough. Or a lead. Or anything in fact.

So she put her mind to the case. Her role was usually to figure out how the perpetrator thought, especially in cases such as this. Yet when she looked at the facts there were inconsistencies and irregularities on top of strange occurrences. Firstly there were the original abductions. She took the newspaper off Leon's desk that showed the pictures of all the dead victims. She had nothing else to go with. There had to be a pattern. Or something. Anything. But there wasn't. It looked random. They were all different races- which almost immediately ruled out unifying physical features. Well... they were all pretty, but if he wanted them for their bodies, then it would make sense that all the victims would be pretty. So she flicked through the pages to a map of abduction sites someone had leaked to the press. It was a mess. It looked like the original prophecy victims had been taken from throwing darts at a map of the city blindfolded. They might just have. Rich areas, poor areas, industrial areas, public areas and everything else. Yet the smattering of data points was too untidy to have been taken off a pre-made list. There was nothing she could take from any of this. She'd read the stories already, depressing and sobering accounts of a city in the grip of terror. Nothing she could use though. Any data she could have used was gone with the archives.

Come to think of it, how the hell had that happened? Police records were usually incredibly good at staying put. The archives department did not make mistakes of this calibre. If the records were gone someone would have had to specifically go through and delete all the relevant records. Which would mean that Prophecy had to have help from inside. Except that literally wasn't possible. She'd heard the talk all over the station since news about Vince had begun to do the rounds. Everybody was on edge, especially the older men who all seemed to have lost someone. And the newer recruits couldn't have been involved in the original abductions. It was a headache alright, though she decided that she'd explore the inside job angle with Leon later on.

What did she have to go on? One kidnapped adopted girl. One concerned boyfriend. Three dead witnesses. One dead cop. Two tarot themed notes that read "Fuck you" in shiny, superstitious letters and not as many words. A trail of blanks and mysteries, there was nothing tying it together. A lack of narrative. It almost seemed as if they were looking at more than one story. Actually...

Selphie looked. And she looked again. And the more she looked the more things fell into place. She went back to the newspaper and read through the articles again. It fell neatly into place. They weren't up against Prophecy. At least not the original Prophecy.

In the original crimes, Prophecy stuck to his methodology. From what she knew, he'd been completely unpredictable in every way except one. The notes. Leon had told her that during the original investigation, Sephiroth had deduced, as she would have in his place, that the original Prophecy was on an ego trip, he needed the police to know it was him so he could feel superior. Normally that was the undoing of serial offenders, but Prophecy was really good at what he did. He never messed up, and kept them guessing to the bitter end. What everybody else had failed to notice about this time around was that it had started when Prophecy broke structure. He'd sent that note to Vincent. The original crimes only used notes for the abductions. Why had nobody else seen this?

It came to her in a flash. They were being played. They'd been played. It was disgusting in it's brilliance. The original Prophecy case held a lot of sway in this town. There was a lot of anger that he'd escaped justice. Still, after all this time. This was because a lot of the officers working the case were directly tied to it. Their relatives were taken and so they signed up. And then Prophecy had killed off a few of his pursuers in a series of deadly traps. More signed up to avenge dead comrades. Everyone was angry, no-one was thinking straight. Even the Divination task force had been hobbled from day one, Prophecy had taken pains to ensure he had something on every one on the force. In fact she'd bet a lot of money that that was his pattern. His weakness. He had targeted the police force. And emotional people were not logical people. And illogical people have a much harder time tracking criminals. It was brilliant in it's depravity. And now, so many years later someone was using the Prophecy case as a smokescreen. These new crimes were similar, no doubt about it, but it wasn't the same criminal. She looked back at her list of recent events.

One dead cop. Why though? Well the obvious was that Vincent had been a threat to this new criminal. Some how. Perhaps more likely though was that the new guy was playing on Vincent's connection to the old case. Setting a bloody smokescreen in place. Everyone except her on the present case had known and been friends with Vincent Valentine. Combined with the note it immediately turned anyone associated with the original events into an emotionally charged mass of potential errors.

One kidnapped adopted girl. Did the new Prophecy actually want her for her, or did he want her because Rikku had adopted her? It was tough to say, either way the copycat needed an abduction under his belt to induce the proper amount panic.

Three dead witnesses. Where to begin? If this was a copycat, why did he care about the witnesses from the original case? Why kill them? And why do it on the quiet? The answer to that one seemed to be to dissociate it from the case. Could the copycat have done more incognito? Almost certainly. Though if so, why invoke Prophecy at all? The answer to that could only be that he was messing with someone close to the case. That sent a shiver down her spine. Who the hell would want to mess with Leon? Or Don, or Goofy? Or even Mickey? It seemed to be almost viciously personal but stupid. Four of the scariest men on the force and someone wanted to inflame them. It just made no god damn sense. The copycat had to have some serious balls.

Which brought Selphie back to the present. She had to tell Leon. This was news. It wasn't necessarily good, but it was something. First though she decided she'd quickly check to see if there was anything that might be vaguely associated in the recent crime records. She called up a grid displaying disappearances and homicides in recent months, she scrolled back a few days, around the time Kairi had disappeared. In fact there was Kairi and there, right above her was... Selphie nearly fell off her chair backwards in surprise. It was definitely time to tell Leon, this case was a much deeper mess than they'd imagined.

.

Sora didn't know what to do.

What would you do? A madman has everything you love in the world. He's dangerous enough to pose a serious threat to the police force, smart enough to evade capture for almost a year while staging an abduction almost every two weeks in a city full of people who are not so morally bankrupt as to just watch this happen. He'd have to be nigh invisible to get away with it.

You on the other hand are nobody. You've got nothing to do but sit back and let the love of your life languish in the clutches of this maniac.

The problem was on a fundamental level. Sora was a doer. And there was nothing he could do. And with nothing to do except wait he suffered.

So he made things to do. He started off by investigating the original case. A few quick web searches brought up a veritable treasure trove of the most depressing stories he'd ever read. He could only read on with mounting horror as accounts of torture, rape and sexual slavery began pouring out of the online woodwork. After he'd finished he wished he'd never looked into it. Now he knew what might be happening to Kairi he couldn't think about anything else.

He couldn't sleep. Images of Kairi screaming in pain filled his head and invaded his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Eventually he got up and went for a walk. The night air soothed him slightly. There was almost no one about on the streets and once he started walking he found he was able to think a little bit more clearly. Almost subconsciously he began to walk the the route that took him to Kairi's work place. She had to have been taken somewhere along here, maybe there was something that might point the cops in the right direction. Don had told him that they couldn't pinpoint where she'd been taken, every camera along the way that might have seen her had been turned the other way. There was no way that was coincidence but there was nothing that could be done about that.

Sora had some idea where she might have been taken from. He'd never liked that alley that ran between Twelfth St and Eleventh. It had always given him a bad case of the creeps. It was the way that everything went quiet as you lost sight of both exits and every step echoed hollowly. It was almost like being underwater.

The alley wasn't far away, it was well lit, fortunately but still fear rose in Sora's throat. He forced it back down and ventured forth, eyes peeled for any slight clue that might help.

What he found wasn't slight. Tire-tracks. There were goddamn tire-tracks in the alley. And they even lead in a direction. Although if the kidnapper, "Prophecy", had gone to the trouble of turning every possible camera away on his way in, he would definitely have done so on his way out. That wasn't all either.

His name was spray painted in big letters red on one of the adjacent walls. Underneath was some smaller writing, possibly marker pen. It read:

She's mine now

-P.

Sora's heart stopped for a second and his blood turned to ice. Then slowly warmed to hot. The bastard was taunting him. Sora's fist slammed into the wall underneath the note. His knuckles came away bloody but he didn't care. This was about as personal as it got. And there was nothing he could do.

No.

Fuck that. There had to be something he could do. This prick thought he was invincible. That he was better than everyone who pursued him. Sora was going to show this asshole why you don't kick a man when he's down.

First thing's first. Sora got out his phone and took pictures of everything. The wall, the note, the ground, the tire-tracks, anything that might be helpful.

Next he set off for home. When he got up the stairs he paused for a minute,unsure which of the less than refined details of his plan of action to do first. He decided on calling Axel. Axel would know how to start. Or better yet Axel himself would get down here. He was a distant guy, but he wasn't heartless. He was a private investigator/freelance journalist by trade and this was his almost step-daughter. Sora had phoned him shortly after the kidnapping and Axel had said that if he needed any help whatsoever, he should contact him.

Sora dialled the number without a care in the world for time. Axel was probably on stakeout anyway. Axel was almost always on stakeout. Sure enough a familiar voice answered.

"Sora, what are you phoning this late for?

"Sorry Axel. It's... Kairi, I've got some news."

"Good or bad? I don't like bad."

"I don't know what kind of news it is."

"Well I'll help you decide, what's up?"

Quickly Sora related a brief summary of events since the kidnapping, ending with the writing on the wall. Axel was silent for almost a minute afterwards.

When he spoke again, his usually playful tone had taken a turn towards serious.

"So you got pictures?"

"Yeah."

"Have you taken them to the cops yet?"

"Not just yet.

"Well that's your next move. Right after you send copies to me."

"Sure."

"It's important that you do it tonight. Marker doesn't last long in the open, I doubt that message is more than a day old. They need to know now."

"Ok, gotcha. What are you going to do?"

"I'll see what I can find on this Prophecy character. Do some digging."

"Are you sure? I mean it doesn't sound like there's much the cops can do, I'm not sure what you could..."

"Sora, I'm the best in the business. Got it memorised?"

"Yeah Axel, I know."

"And besides you called me. You knew this is what I'd do. Now send me those pictures and head on over to see the boys in blue."

"On it."

"Oh and Sora..."

"Yeah?"

"Give Terra a call when you get the chance. Just leave out the bits where this guy's invisible. You know how he gets. With a bit of luck he won't try to get involved personally. I doubt it but it's worth a try."

"It's on my list."

"Promise me you'll call him."

"Yeah I promise."

"Ok good, send those pictures through and get moving. Also, stay safe kid. You're no good to Kairi dead, got it memorised?"

"I know, I know. Talk to you later.

The line went dead. Good. Sora thought. Now he had a concrete direction.

After he'd emailed Axel the digital copies of his pictures, Sora headed for the police station as fast as he could. On his slightly beat-up but much loved motorcycle he arrived in virtually no time at all.

So at about 2 am, four days days after Kairi's abduction Sora found himself standing awkwardly outside the police station. It was an imposing red brick building that had seen kinder days. Sora could see just by looking at it that it was a sad shadow of it's former self. Sora knew he should head inside but something stopped him. Maybe it was prudence, maybe it was providence, or maybe it was dumb luck because in that extra moment he spent outside the police station a car with sirens blaring sped into the lot and parked in such a way that it looked like it might roll. Curious, Sora watched as a familiar tall bald man got out. It was "Goofy" ,so what was so... Sora's mouth fell open as another familiar head of hair got out of the car. It just wasn't the one he was expecting. No way. What the hell was going on here?

"Sora?"

"Roxas, what are you doing here?"

Goofy looked utterly puzzled as Sora stood facing the person he'd least expected to ever see near a police station. Roxas' eyes were red and there were dark rings under his eyes. No. No. Not that. Not to them. Surely not. Please god no.

"Naminé... Naminé's gone" Then Roxas began sobbing into his shoulder. It was all Sora could do to wrap his arms around the smaller man in mute sympathy.

Woah. Long chapter. Definitely didn't go as I'd planned when I started writing it either.

Quite plot heavy for a chapter that as just going to be filler. Six weeks gave me a lot of chance to figure it out though.

This chapter is probably riddled with mistakes I can't see. Please let me know.

Let's see, what else do I have to say?

Oh Yeah. Review replies.

Animal Lover Bebe- Unfortunately, Kairi believes. And those questions weren't easy to think up, but from memory they just kind of popped into my head.

The Story Will Continue- I don't think I'm particularly polished as a writer, but thanks for saying so. Prophecy could tell when she broke because he's had practice. The signs of a mental breakdown are varied and subtle but definitely accessible to someone who's seen more than his fair share. Or has he?

Paradise Avenger- I guess guilt finally got the better of me. I hope you this chapter was worth the wait.

When all is said and done I've got nothing left but my customary sign off.

So, Read, Review and Most Importantly: Enjoy.

If you have any queries, drop me a PM.

Yours Sincerely

Everhopeful83