A/N: Hello readers. It's been two months since I've updated this...well, c'est la vie. I hope you like angst and possibly unreliable narrators!

Chapter 3: Nobody's Name

"Don't you think you should have a name? Something other than Thirteen? Didn't you have one before you came here?"

It was Axel who posed the question, but Xion's quiet gaze said she was waiting to hear an answer, also. A name to replace the number.

It was true that he'd had a name, once. Thirteen vaguely remembered the two syllables, bright and happy and light, but when he thought of them, it was as someone far removed, as if it had been another life. Another person.

A somebody.

Thirteen was nobody, an ugly, scarred slave. The name belonged to someone else, someone better, and he didn't deserve it. The brand on his flank proved it, reinforced it with every thought, and captured the attention of his hands to trace the shiny pink lines. If he were to have a name—he doubted he deserved even that. But if Axel insisted he give a name, it would be his own. Not the one that belonged to the bright person from long ago.

The name came to him while cleaning up after one of Axel's fiery mishaps, scraping away the charred and melted remains of his latest experiment. In the center of the mess was a small cross-shaped bit of metal, almost an "x;" Thirteen picked it up and scrubbed it absently, already thinking to add it to the scrap bucket. As he turned it over, the harsh sound of the letter wormed its way into his mind, mixing in with the unspoken syllables of the person he once was, inverting and warping them like the metal in his hand.

Roxas.

Thirteen didn't realize that he'd stopped moving, his hand curled around the metal, until Axel's chiding voice pulled him from his reverie. "Hey, come on now. I need this cleaned up, yeah?" Thirteen nodded, his grip tightening over the metal. "What's that?" Axel asked, inclining his head.

Thirteen flinched, the x falling from his hand; he quickly bent to pick it up, holding it flat on his hand. "S-sorry. Scrap metal."

Axel's hand was hot as he plucked the item up to inspect it. "Huh." He glanced at the half-cleaned work bench it had come from. "It's not what I was going for, but it still looks cool, right?" He grinned and pocketed it. "Let's not scrap this, Thirteen."

Axel was already turned away as Thirteen's mouth moved. The sound didn't come out at first, so he wet his lips and tried again. "R-roxas."

Axel half-turned to look at him, an eyebrow quirked. "What's that?"

"Roxas." It came out stronger on the second try. "Instead of Thirteen. Roxas."

Axel studied him, and he tried not to fidget under the gaze. "Roxas. I like it, it has a nice ring to it." He nodded. "Tell Xion; she'll be happy." Axel strode to the other side of the room, back to working on a less volatile project, leaving Thirteen to finish his task.

Not Thirteen. Roxas. It would take some getting used to, the new name, but it was, after all, better than just a number. Maybe he could become someone new, to fit into his new, so-called life. He tried not to think about it too hard, because with those thoughts came the others, memories of pains dull and sharp alike.

Roxas shifted his focus to the work bench, redoubling his cleaning efforts to clear his mind. He knew what happened when he thought. The only one he let himself consider was how to tell Xion his new name.

Xion returned from her city excursion with a souvenir, as usual. Roxas stared at the set of rusty skeleton keys, his face growing pale. The image tripped at a memory that he hurried to tamp down.

"I found two!" Xion exclaimed, passing one into his trembling hands. "One for each of us!"

"Isn't this…dangerous for a slave…" Roxas struggled to get the words out.

"They're useless, really. Our master knows that, and we know that. It's okay to just have them." She offered him a small smile as she placed hers on the small wardrobe they shared, lining it up with the collection of trinkets there.

Roxas tucked the key into his pocket. "Thank you, Xion."

She beamed. "You've made a lot of progress, Thirteen. I'm so glad."

Roxas lifted a hand to scratch a spot under the metal band that circled his neck. "About that. You can call me Roxas. I'm…I'm a person, not a number." Even though he said it, Roxas was still having trouble believing it, himself. Still, if he said it enough, maybe he'd eventually believe it.

He was startled when Xion threw her arms around him, a rare show of affection. "Good! That's so good!" She pulled away, face flushed and eyes sparkling. "Roxas!" Her laughter was pure and bright, and for the first time, Roxas felt the corners of his lips tilt up. Xion noticed, and buried him in another hug. With someone like Xion around, it would be just a little easier, he decided. Xion let him go abruptly. "I still have a lot to do tonight. And so do you. But I'm so happy!"

They padded out of their quarters together, Xion stopping in the study, while Roxas continued on into Axel's work room. Axel ruffled Roxas' hair as he passed, on his way to his desk. Spotting Xion's happy face, he laughed. "I see you've met our Roxas, then."

Roxas lingered at the door to the work room, watching the two interact. Slave and master, together, almost as if such a difference didn't exist between them. Was it really that simple? To be happy, while being owned, and ordered around? They were at Axel's mercy, no matter how he acted now, and Roxas knew what slave owners were capable of. He couldn't imagine how Axel might react, if pressed, even if Xion insisted that Axel was kind.

He still couldn't help but fear the person who'd bought him for just a handful of coppers. Roxas found his hand already seeking out the mark burned into his flesh. Axel was a fire wielder—all the more reason to fear him, especially in this room. Xion was an expensive slave: obedient, pretty, and unmarred. Of course she would be treated well. Roxas was already damaged goods, expendable. No one would notice if another scar joined the ones he already wore.

The thought sent him hurrying back into the work room. Axel had already directed him, before Xion had even returned, to divide a powder she'd delivered into small glass vials. He forced himself to breathe carefully, and keep his movements steady. He could only focus on his tasks. That was his sole purpose. Anything else would put him back under a whip, or worse. He wasn't that person anymore.

Roxas was capping the last vial when he felt Axel as a heat at his back. "Tomorrow is a free day, Roxas. How would you like to see the outside of this house again?"

Roxas looked up at his master, face empty. It was easier, that way. "Okay."

Axel gave him a long, searching look, one that Roxas avoided by casting his eyes down. Finally: "That's enough for today, Roxas. Go tell Xion to set dinner out."

It was a relief to be dismissed. He relayed the instructions to Xion, before retreating to their shared quarters.

Roxas huddled into himself on the narrow bed that Axel had had brought in for him, emptying his mind. It was taking more effort than it had when he'd first come here. He didn't have the hurts on his body to distance himself anymore. The lack of them gave him a sense of security—one he was certain was false. It was only a matter of time before he offended his new master and earned a punishment.

There was a part of him that wished it, even, to feel the strike of a whip, and release him from the constant fear of anticipation. He wondered if he could bring himself to instigate it, to have even the tiniest bit of control to decide the time that it would come.

He wiped the thought from his mind, along with the others. It was dangerous to think like that.

When Roxas fell asleep, he was a nobody once more.

o - o - o

Away from the city, he stood on the shore, the ocean lapping peacefully at his feet. Bare toes curled in warm, damp sand.

There were two others there, too, faceless companions, who had set out with him to—do what? It was somebody else's memory, hazy and unclear. He only knew the sense of purpose that drove them, the feeling of tenacity of untried youth.

It was all wrong.

He wanted to warn them. It curled in his gut, an urgency to stop the inevitable. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was drowned out by an angry, roaring sound, as the world grew dark. He watched, as if from the outside, as his other self disappeared, a casualty of too much pain, and too much horror, until all that was left was him, the nobody. Thirteen.

Roxas.

His eyes opened to darkness, breath coming in gasps. It was like suffocating, and he clawed at his metal collar in vain. He couldn't help the little cry that escaped, and that made it even worse, the fear of getting caught. A small flame came to life on a candle, and he scrambled back into the corner of his bed, imagining his fiery master coming to punish him already.

Instead it was Xion's gentle voice hushing him, her hands firmly pulling his away from his throat. "You'll hurt yourself," she whispered.

A dark titter joined his gasping breath. "Who cares? I'm meant to hurt." He jerked his hands away. Still, his breathing began to even out.

Xion studied him in the low light, choosing her words carefully. "I care."

Roxas returned her words with a withering look, and he could tell it was the first time he'd used it from the surprise on her face. "You're a slave, like me. Nobody. You don't matter."

Xion narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe that. But if that's what you think, then think about who does matter. Axel would be displeased if you hurt yourself. And you know who he would blame? Me."

Roxas stilled. Xion didn't deserve punishment. "No. You—I don't want you to get hurt!"

"Even though I'm a nobody?" There was a hint of a smile in her voice. "Alright then. I won't get hurt, if you're not hurt. Deal?"

Roxas let out a sigh. "Okay."

"You should go back to sleep. Aren't you going out with the master tomorrow?" Roxas nodded. "It'll be good to get out. You haven't left once since he first brought you home, you know?"

"Mn."

o - o - o

Axel was still sleeping when Xion and Roxas rose in the morning. Xion assured him that it was normal for him to sleep late on a free morning, and went about her daily work. Roxas, having not been given a specific task, defaulted to tidying the study.

His hands were lingering on a discarded novel when Axel entered with a cheerful "Good morning, Roxas!" Roxas jerked away from the book, and froze, realizing the movement betrayed him even more. Axel raised an eyebrow. "Throw it away. It was a shit read, anyway."

Roxas stared at the floor. "Yes, Master." It was a book, but he still hated to throw it away. It reminded him how easily he could be thrown away. Axel wasn't wasteful when it came to his work—the scrap metal he kept was a testament to that—but that was useful things. Roxas wasn't necessary. Just like a book.

Axel's snort startled him. "If you're that broken up about it, you can keep it. I don't mind."

Roxas' mouth fell open. Was he being baited? He picked the book up gingerly. He wanted to say Are you sure? But questioning his master would be a mistake. Refusing it would be a mistake. Accepting it would be a mistake. He wasn't sure what the consequences would be for each action, and so chose the present over the future. "T-thank you, Master."

Axel's lips stretched in a smile. "Alright. Just leave it on the desk for now, and go put on the clothes I had delivered yesterday. There's shoes, too."

The clothes were a layered affair, all black underneath, with canvas over-pants and a white jacket lined in red. The jacket had a stiff collar, but was open in the front, leaving the metal band at his throat visible. It was some consolation, maybe, to have extra layers, like armor, at least.

Axel nodded in approval when he returned to the study. "It suits you." Roxas nodded at the ground. "Now." He gestured at a chain pooled on his desk. "I'm not fond of chains, so I won't put you on one. I don't think I have to tell you what the city guard does to runaway slaves." Axel paused until Roxas nodded; it was something he knew intimately. "Good! Let's go!"

In truth, Roxas was still balanced on the edge of a precipice. The thought of running away for the sake of running away, he knew that was futile. There was no escape. But there was still the anticipation, waiting for Axel to turn on him. It was tempting to get it over with, and it would be so easy to slip away unnoticed in a crowd. Maybe the whipping would kill him, this time, and he wouldn't have to go back.

It was a thought that fell away as the passed the slave quarter.

Roxas had forgotten how near it was to Axel's home. Or perhaps the walk had been much longer, in his weakened state. It had already been over a month since then—he hadn't exactly kept track, but Xion had. He didn't have the courage to seek out that pain, even if it meant worrying over when it would fall on him.

So he followed Axel as a silent shadow, obedient. Axel, on the other hand, was quick to point out his favorite shops, the places he sent Xion for errands, and even a few things he'd worked on.

One was a decorative sculpture that was displayed outside of a glass shop, where Axel had once apprenticed. It caught the light and refracted it into a surprising pattern that glittered across the sidewalk. "Working with glass is harder, you know?" Axel was saying. "It's a lot more delicate. The results are pretty enough, but I've always liked metal. It's more useful." He laughed. "And more useful means more money."

Roxas stared at the sculpture for a long time. He hadn't thought his master capable of something so beautiful, and wondered if Xion had seen it. She probably had, and probably adored it. He still didn't understand how a slave could adore their master.

He was surprised when one of the shop slaves came out under the sculpture and smiled up at Axel. "Ser Cendres!"

"Hey, Pence! I see you're still being fed well!" It was strange to see that slender hand descend on another's head to ruffle hair. "This is Roxas, he's been helping me out in my home workshop lately."

Pence winced. "I bet it was a mess!"

Axel laughed. "I think you know me too well."

Pence smiled at Roxas. "But I'm sure Roxas will take care of you, right?"

Roxas glanced up to gauge Axel's expectations, and found no hints, so he simply nodded. A voice from inside called Pence back, and he disappeared with a cheerful wave.

Axel pointed at a clock tower that rose out above its surroundings. "I've worked on that, too. Come on, I'll show you!"

Roxas wasn't sure what the point was, of Axel wandering around the city with him in tow, chattering about his favorite things. He didn't care about what his owner did outside of his home. He didn't care if docile, gently-raised slaves liked Axel. A smart person wouldn't ruin an expensive slave.

A smart person would vent their frustrations on a slave that only cost a handful of coppers.

Axel was teasing him. Mocking.

He must be, and the thought made Roxas' heart rate rise as they climbed the stairs of the clock tower. His breath, too, was snatched away, as Axel threw a door open to let them out onto a ledge.

There was nowhere to run, except to fall, and it was debatable if it was a fatal drop.

Axel pointed up at the heavy metal hands on the clock face. "Xemnas had me make the hands. The old ones he wanted to decorate his home, can you believe it?"

Roxas wasn't looking at the clock hands.

Up there, the wind tugged at their hair and clothes, and carried words away, so that Axel didn't hear him the first time he said it. He could see it in the raised eyebrows, so he said it again. "Just do it! Whatever you're going to do, just get it over with!"

Axel crossed his arms. "No, Roxas. That's my line."

Roxas gaped. "W-what?"

"You need to get it out of your system, whatever it is. Let go. Things aren't going to be like they were before I bought you. I'm not going to hurt you. But if you want to hurt me, now is your chance." His voice was calm, even. "No one will see. Xion won't know." He uncrossed his arms and held them out to his sides. "Just a little push, Roxas, that's all it would take. You hold your master's life in your hands."

"It's a trap," he whispered. He'd be caught by the city guards. Or he could dive down after, and have an end to it.

"It's not a trap, Roxas. It's a choice." Axel stepped closer, arms still out at his sides. Another step, and Roxas began backing away, shaking his head.

A misstep took the choice away from him. The ledge behind him ran out sooner than he expected, and Roxas experienced a moment that felt as if he was floating, his arms pinwheeling for purchase.

He thought he'd long ago forgotten how to scream, but the sound still tore its way out of his throat.

"Roxas!" Axel's hand on his wrist was painful, but not the kind of painful he'd expected. He clung tight as Axel hauled him back onto the ledge, until they both fell into a heap, and Axel began laughing. "Wow! Well, that could've gone better!"

Roxas stared at him, incredulous.

Axel only laughed harder. "Well, maybe you could've pushed me off, so it could've been worse."

"Are you mad?" Roxas was certain he was.

"What?" His laughter stopped abruptly. "No! I'm pretty happy you didn't kill me."

"I meant crazy."

Axel grinned. "Well, maybe." There was silence between them for a long time before Axel spoke again. "I meant it. What I said."

Roxas stared down at the city, at the ugly blemish of the slave quarter.

"You can speak your mind, Roxas. I can't understand you if you don't."

"What's there to understand? I'm a slave." The city was blurring below him.

Axel sighed.

"Of course I don't trust you. My life belongs to you."

"I just saved you from falling to your death," Axel remarked dryly.

"So you can hurt me worse later," Roxas muttered.

"Ah. There it is." Axel leaned back against the clock face. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. "Fine. Just remember, that once, you held my life in your hands. The only thing that stopped you was you."

The words sent a shudder through Roxas. He was right. If Axel ever did hurt him, it would be his own fault, for letting this chance go. It was…oddly comforting, a strange kind of control that he had been given.

"You're right." And then, as he turned Axel's words over in his mind again: "I'm not the same person I was before."

Axel stood, and held a hand out to help Roxas up. He accepted it, and the quiet that followed them home was a new kind of silence.

Because Sora was gone. He was Roxas, now.