CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was getting dark by the time they left the castle. The sun had sunk below the many cliffs and mountains surrounding the castle and city, casting a dimness over the world. Stars were beginning to pierce the sky, one by glittering one, pinpricks of diamond against the deepening blue.

Roxas lifted his eyes, breathing the cool air deep into his lungs, hands sinking into the pouch pocket of his hooded sweater. Cold winds blew from the hollows of the chasms surrounding the castle, ruffling his hair silently, playing with it gently.

Axel watched him, hands in his own pockets, the same coat he'd tied Naminé with, scarlet spikes swaying, eyes cautious. He studied the blond, memorised every piece of him. Roxas looked so innocent, standing out here watching the sky. This was part of what drove Axel so crazy about him… the wide, wondering blue eyes, the element of purity even though Roxas was tough, could be aggressive, could hate as much as anyone else. He was… clean without being naïve, and in the dark world that Hollow Bastion was still only now tugging free of, that was like some kind of gem winking among the rocks… Axel's very own rose among thorns.

Roxas closed his eyes, feeling the freshness like a salve, soothing away the twisting that had possessed him almost the entire day. His chest quietened, muscles relaxing, and for the first time, there wasn't a sweat across his brow. In the end, he still hadn't felt great physically, but Axel had seemed… well, serious about this. This didn't feel like some frivolous trip for ice cream. Roxas tasted tension in the air, and a sobriety that the redhead rarely sported. Axel's eyes were… Roxas glanced sideways at him, gauging. They were wary, almost. There was a great watchfulness that made Roxas wonder where exactly they were going, and what he expected to happen.

"You ready?" Axel's voice was soft, barely carrying along the breeze, a faint rumble. Roxas sucked in a breath, wet his lips, frowned slightly and nodded.

"Yeah. Let's go."

They started walking, down the metal bracing patching the crumbled stone of the outer paths leading to the dirt road. The entrance to the castle was a blaze of activity contrasting the peace of the growing night, as the month's deliveries were transported into the castle. Roxas spied several members of the Committee helping out, heard Yuffie's strident voice calling commands as she leapt from one pickup truck into the tray of the next. He watched curiously, craning his neck to keep them in view for as long as possible. It seemed Aerith had made additional flower orders – he saw a florist's van parked to one side, panel door flung open, a series of arrangements packed in, becoming less as the delivery boy hooked them out one by one onto the packed dirt.

"Yuffie! Get the fuck off my shoulders!"

Cid's bellow followed them, earning chuckles from the pair as they passed out of sight, out of earshot.

Soon, there was only the crunching of their feet, the road familiar to Roxas now. Axel unhitched a hand from its warm burrow, running it through his hair, Roxas watching in fascination as the spikes simply bent and sprang back. He couldn't imagine his own hair growing to that length and maintaining its natural sticking-up quality.

"So, look," Axel said at last, breaking their mutual silence, breaking Roxas' focus. His green eyes flicked across the ground, reluctant to rise and meet the blue. "I never really apologised properly for what happened this morning. I should have told you. I – I would have, but… Like I said, I just didn't think about it." He shook his head, understanding that this was hardly any form of excuse to make things better. "It won't happen again, Roxas." His voice was so quiet. Roxas didn't think he could stand seeing the vibrancy so subdued like this. He just didn't seem like Axel.

His eyes shifted slowly over the redhead's features, face averted to keep from having to confront the blond's wrath. "You look so tired," said Roxas softly. Axel's face creased, head jerking slightly up, risking a quick sideways glance. "You still haven't slept?"

"Uh… I didn't really get the chance to," he muttered, kicking a small stone from his path. "It's fine, though. I'm not that bad."

"We can leave this for another time…" Roxas offered.

Axel straightened abruptly. "No! I mean, it's – I want to do this." He frowned. "This is important, Rox. Sleep can wait. I'm…" He hesitated. "I'm sick of you not knowing enough, and finding out somehow and getting pissed at me. I'm sick of fucking up. So – I'm doing it right this time."

Roxas shook his head. "Axel, you're not fucking up. You haven't. I mean…" He laughed a little, eyes rising once again to the sky. "You're the whole reason I'm even out here."

"Yeah, and you've had so much fun so far," Axel replied moodily. Roxas sighed, smiled, decided enough was enough, and moved closer to the redhead. He looped his arm around the narrow waist, startling him completely. For a long moment, Axel just stared slackly, not entirely aware of Roxas' purpose. Then surprise bloomed, his arm moved of its own accord to encircle the blond's shoulders.

"It's not horrible," Roxas said. "And it'll get better."

"Yeah…" Axel blinked, turned his face forward, hints of confusion and pleasure taking turns flashing in and out of his expression. In the end, he didn't question Roxas' generosity, just accepted it and hoped it would last.

The moon rose high overhead, illuminating the city of Hollow Bastion, creating a dark silhouette filled with sparkling lights. Roxas kept his gaze upon the twinkling, a small smile growing at the corners of his lips the closer they got, Axel's warmth seeping through the material of their layers to touch him. The parts of him that weren't connected to the redhead were cold in comparison, and lonely.

"So, what are we seeing, anyway?" he asked, a flutter of anticipation in his chest. In this reality, it could be almost anything. There was so much he didn't know about this place, so much that Axel had to show him. Hell, Axel could take him to a bar and it'd be a new, exciting experience. He wondered, considering the redhead's attitude, if it was something important to him. Something only Roxas was being allowed to see – some piece of his wild, happy spirit being revealed.

Axel smiled. "We're going to go see some people. Very important people." His eyes were gentle as he looked down at the blond. "I know you'll want to meet them."

People? Well – that was… less expected. Axel's grip on him shifted, drawing him nearer, the heat flowing from one body to the next becoming absolute.

"Are you interested in poker later?"

Roxas laughed nervously. "I don't know, should I be? From what Demyx said, I'll be lucky to wake up with anything more than a hangover."

Axel chuckled. "I'll protect you. Sit next to me, I'll teach you how to cheat." He tipped his head to the side. "…Not that I'm any good at it," he admitted. "Luxord always seems to catch me. Could be the fact that Demyx always sits on my other side, and giggles like a bitch when he knows I'm holding something up my sleeve."

Roxas laughed, shook his head. "I'll see what I can do on my own."

Axel's eyes widened. "Oh, boy, you have no idea what's coming, do you? Take my advice, Roxie – cheat your cute little pants off. Luxord is a fiend."

Roxas raised an eyebrow, shrugged. "We'll see."

Axel stared hard for a moment, then darted in and placed a kiss on his temple. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he said intently.

"Forget it," Roxas said blandly. "It's not like it's not going to happen again, so we may as well both get used to it." Then he grinned. "Besides, I've got Demyx on my side now. If you or Zexion try it again, he'll come after you."

"Like a rabid bunny on crack," Axel muttered with a shiver. "I'll be good, I promise."

The ground levelled out, footsteps clanging on the metal sheets, the walls held back, just like when he was with Aerith, but different in the darkness. Roxas felt a stab of anxiety, gaze lifting suddenly to dart back and forth, seeking hiding places, perches of observation… anything that might be concealing the attacker from the valley. He who followed Roxas and Aerith, close enough to eavesdrop. What if he was still out here? What if he had followed them from the castle, was right now piercing the gloom to watch the blond?

Roxas' fingers dug slightly into Axel's side, his other hand burrowing deep into his pocket, head lowering slightly as his breaths increased. Sensing his discomfort, Axel frowned down at him, glanced around. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," Roxas muttered. "It's not far to go til we get there."

Axel nodded slowly, rubbed a thumb against the blond's arm. They entered the Bailey at last, dusty footprints trailing in their wake, passing through the cold stone room, the open gates, up the stairs, around and down into the knot of housing. Axel chose the direction, away from the market district, his stride even, the hand on Roxas' shoulder becoming restless. He started shifting about, plucking at the shorter hairs at the back of Roxas' neck, sifting through the spikes, tugging the teen's earlobe absently. When Roxas squinted up at him, he wasn't even looking at the blond, eyes flitting from building to building, staring at the bright lights illuminating the streets and then blinking rapidly a few seconds later. His shoulders twitched minutely from side to side as the arm around Roxas' shoulders adjusted every couple of minutes. The anxious energy was infecting the blond, unnerving him.

"Who exactly are we seeing?" he asked with an edge. "Friends of yours?"

Axel shook his head quickly. "Not this time. There's a few people you should definitely meet, ones from Twilight Town like you who left the castle after a couple of years, but they're not what we're heading for."

People from Twilight Town lived down in the city? So not everybody felt the need to stay and protect the simulation… Did they just not care that there were still people living there? Or, like Aerith had suggested, were they leaving Twilight Town to the ones that had worked so hard for it, to finally have an existence all of their own? Naminé had done it, after all – even though she was a techie, she also travelled to draw the many magnificent sights. Roxas could understand that compulsion; after a lifetime of existing in an unreal world, boundaries like invisible walls sealing them in, the thought of seeing new sights, breathing foreign air, was an exciting, blood-stirring one.

But then there was Axel. Roxas glanced up as he shrugged again, grip loosening, neck rolling in a stretching motion, spikes brushing Roxas' face so that his nose scrunched up from the tickling sensation. He spluttered a little, earning a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Roxie."

"What's up with you?" the blond grumbled. "Pick a position and stay still."

Roxas mentally slapped himself as Axel launched into a full-out leer. "I prefer to use several positions and grind, Roxie. Shall I lead you to an alley and show you how?"

"Shall I lead my elbow to your face and teach it how to bleed?"

Axel scratched his head with his free hand. "That's a little more kink than I usually allow."

"Oh, really?" Roxas shot him an arch look. "So exactly how many predecessors do I have?"

Axel grinned, pinched his cheek in a condescending manner, ignoring the sound of protest from the blond. "Is Axel's Roxie jealous?"

"No," glared the teen, "but Roxie's Roxie would rather not stick his tongue into the anatomical equivalent of a chemical toilet."

Axel's eyes widened, green sparkling brightly. "Exactly where were you planning on putting your tongue, Roxas?"

Roxas groaned, shaking his head in defeat. Axel's smirk was broad, his arm tightening possessively around the blond and, for several minutes, his nervous energy was lost in the overwhelming smugness.

Gradually, Roxas noticed that the lights around them were dimming, becoming sparser, the road rougher. Just like when he had been with Aerith, it seemed that the further you got from the market district and the Bailey entrance to the city, the more broken down the surrounding structures became. Passers-by were less frequent, the distant noises of the city growing faint, until they were like spectral voices on the air. It was as though the blond and redhead were travelling slowly back in time, leaving the prosperity restored by the Committee, entering the damage of the years left behind, when Axel had been young and alone, Roxas yet to find his perfect, peaceful life to be a stifling purgatory.

He found himself moving closer to the redhead, clinging a little, fitting himself against the side of the other's body. Axel glanced down, held him reassuringly, gloved index finger briefly touching his face in a gentle reminder that he was safe. The past might have done its best to haunt the cold wind blowing through their clothing, flapping Axel's coat behind him, snapping quietly, but its essence was dead and gone.

As it became clearer and clearer that this wasn't a part of the city people tended to frequent, Roxas began forming an idea of where they might be heading. He grew still, and quiet, while at his side Axel began to fidget again.

The sidewalk was crumbling and crunching beneath their feet as they at last halted. Axel's hand restrained him from taking a further step, the blond looking up with curiosity, with trepidation. His eyebrows rose slowly as he realised what Axel had brought him to look at.

By the road, rusted with age, half collapsed, cold, dead and silent, sprawled a playground. He glanced uncertainly at Axel, who squeezed his shoulder gently, inclining his head in a gesture that said to enter the park.

Roxas' footsteps dulled as he left the pavement, sand and stray, loose rocks sinking under his weight. They passed a collection of eroded pipes that had once been a jungle gym, now a crushed skeleton. A see-saw sat illuminated by the moon, half snapped away under a giant rock that looked as if it had simply fallen out of the sky. Its splintered wooden edge pointed heavenward, and would continue to do so long after Roxas was gone. In one section stood a slide and swing-set, both almost untouched except for the years of obvious weathered neglect.

Roxas picked through with a nervousness in the pit of his stomach. It was so easy to imagine this cracked, broken-down play area whole again, filled with the cries and squeals of children. That it never would be again lent a haunted feeling to the air, as if these lonely, abandoned pieces of equipment retained the memories of all those who had passed through… and waited hopelessly for their return. Roxas drew to a halt in front of the swings, surveying it all with a sense of – of desolation, of loss. This playground felt more real to him than the idea of the war itself. This one place was proof positive that something that once had existed was no longer part of… anyone's lives. No one's but his, and Axel's, in this one moment.

Axel went to the first of the two swings, hands wrapping around the chains, head tilted back as he tugged hard and watched for signs of weakness. Apparently satisfied that it wasn't going to necessarily disintegrate under his weight, he cautiously turned, and lowered himself into the seat. The links gave a tired groan as they tightened for the first time in years. Axel's toes turned in slightly, giving him a boyish look as he carefully swung back and forth with his feet in the sand. Sitting there in the moonlight, in this hollowed-out place, the redhead looked… forlorn. He was a direct descendent of the chaos that destroyed this place. His memories belonged here, his own ghost flitting through.

He looked up, smiled slightly. "Roxie, come swing."

Roxas took the next swing over, feeling a prickle at the back of his eyes, fighting the urge to hitch in a sharp, sad breath. Yes, Axel's redheaded spirit danced in these ruins, a little boy with spikes forced back into a hair-band, and acid-green eyes. And he wanted Roxie to come play.

Axel began to swing a little higher, shoes scraping the dirt, heels digging furrows, small valleys. Roxas dangled in the other seat, watching him. "We used to come here, didn't we?" he asked, voice low, carrying easily in the stillness.

"Yep." Axel's long coattails flapped as he rose backwards, dragging along the sand as his momentum took him forward again. His legs were too long, feet catching the earth, stilting the journey, making him jerk. He frowned, slowed to a stop, stood, holding the chains and backing up. "You remember?"

He paused, waiting for Roxas' answer. The blond dipped his head. "I – I feel the ghosts."

Axel jumped a couple inches, sitting quickly, drawing his knees up as the swing shot forward. The links squealed in loud protest.

"Plenty of those around," he said loudly, breathlessly. He found a way to keep his momentum up without his feet getting in the way, built up a steady rhythm, climbing higher without fear of the whole thing just crashing down from above. Roxas eyed the top of the set warily, searching for signs of warping.

"We used to come here… with our moms…" Axel said, voice disturbing the fluttering phantoms, making Roxas wince. As he flashed past, he shot the blond a grin, eyes hopeful as he urged, "Swing with me, Roxie."

Roxas glanced up at his own chains, dubiously asking, "Do you think it'll hold?"

"Of course," the other blithely replied, swinging past again to prove it. Despite the hideous noises it was making, yes, the links were holding on. Roxas supposed that the worst that could happen was a hell of a bump if it turned out to be too weak for him. He started off carefully, as Axel had, just using his feet at first to test it out. Beside him, Axel's arcs grew broader, knees tucking up every time he neared the ground, then extending as he soared. Soon, Roxas' cautious swings joined him, the wind blowing past his ears, sending spikes of hair into his eyes with every backward sweep. It was cold, and slightly dizzying, and kind of frightening, and just a little bit fun.

"Higher, Roxas!" Axel commanded, reeling past. Roxas obeyed, increased his effort, stopped listening to the deathlike howls of the chains and concentrated on reaching Axel's level. They moved unevenly, Axel's feet finding the sky as Roxas' pointed to the sand. Their combined weight made the structure of the set thump slightly on the high point of every arc. Flakes of rust fluttered to earth, some of them getting inhaled, sending one or both of the boys coughing every now and then.

Axel adjusted his thrust slightly, shortening it for a moment while he waited for Roxas to reach him, then released. They soared together, suddenly in tandem, the chains snapping and creaking, the narrow seats cutting into their thighs, breaths coming out loud and focused as they climbed towards the stars. Roxas grew colder and colder, Axel's sweater thin against the air's friction. He fixed his eyes upward, head tilting back slightly, swimming in vertigo as his body flew back and forth.

"Roxas! Look now! Look out!"

Roxas gasped, snapped his gaze down, looked sideways with confusion, saw Axel pointing excitedly. "You missed it," the redhead said, gripping the chain again as they fell back. "Get a big swing, and at the top, look out, straight ahead!"

Roxas furrowed his brow, took a deep breath, inserted every bit of effort into the next one, rose higher than ever before, and looked. From up here, for the brief seconds in which he hung, he saw over the collection of gnarled, twisted trees a large ruin, what was once a long building, now utterly destroyed. Axel was beside him a bare second later, eyes focused at the same point, eyebrows drawn together, red hair fluttering. "You see it?" he murmured, as Roxas began to fall.

They swung back fast, gravity tugging them down. On the next upward sweep, Axel jumped, the seat clattering loudly as it leapt against the chains in his absence. He landed softly in the sand, arms outstretched, coat settling a moment later to sway around his ankles. Startled, Roxas copied, letting go too late and staggering as he hit, legs buckling, a jarring pain shooting up into his knees. He fell to the sand, capturing handfuls, feeling it slide and wedge beneath his nails. Hands touched him, Axel concerned. "Roxie?"

Roxas grasped his wrist, pulled himself up by it. For a moment, panting, they looked at each other. "It's where they died," the redhead explained after several beats. Roxas paused, didn't breathe for a second, looked over at the trees, knowing now that beyond lay – a wreckage. "You want to go see?"

Roxas blinked hard, scrubbed at the dust in his eyes, bewildered and nauseous. "See?"

Axel hooked an arm around him. "Come on, I'll show you."

They returned to the footpath, passed the copse of trees. Roxas struggled to shake off the feeling that clung to him, remaining from the playground, like oil adhering to his skin.

As they turned the corner some minutes later, the hulking construction came into view. A shattered building, walls broken, decimated, the ceiling crushing the debris. It sank in on itself quietly, huddled and dark.

Axel paused, gazing across the street. Here, there were no more streetlights – this was Hollow Bastion from the war. No one needed to see it.

Shivering, Roxas wrapped his arms around his shoulders, index fingers moving against the sides of his neck in a faintly nervous motion. "So, what am I looking at exactly?" he asked hoarsely, not glancing at the redhead, eyes fixed on the edifice.

"I told you," said Axel calmly. His fingers brushed the boy's arm from over his shoulder. "This is where they died, Rox. This is their grave."

He held the blond's gaze steadily, watching as bewilderment turned to comprehension, to shock, before settling again back in the realm of confusion. Roxas' eyes swung over, blinking quickly. "You brought me… to their graves?"

"Grave," the redhead corrected quietly. "Just the one." He stared across the street. "They were all meeting to figure out what to do about the war, Hollow Bastion's future. So much of the town attended…" His expression, his tone, fell abruptly flat. "It was Zanarkand that did it. They rigged an explosion." He shrugged. "Almost everybody died, blown apart or crushed by the rubble."

Roxas was silent. No wonder there were ghosts about. The whole town was running on them… even the rebuilt parts were located over sites like this… Roxas just knew it.

"So… they're in there now?" he asked softly. Axel exhaled slowly.

"No, Roxas. They're gone." He lowered his eyes to the blond. "Only their bones remain."

Roxas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, grimacing. "So why'd you even bring me, if they're not here?"

Axel gusted a sigh, unthreading his arm from the blond, hands finding his pockets. "Because," he said after a long pause, "aside from you… my other obsession sits before us." He smiled crookedly. "It's amazing how much empty bones can… call to you."

Roxas swallowed, asked neutrally, "Do you… make a habit of obsessing over things that are… always out of your grasp?"

Axel rose up onto his toes with a frown, bobbed back down. "Used to." He shook his head sharply. "But I don't need to anymore. I've – got you, Roxas. You're real now, even though sometimes it felt like you were as good as dead to me. Then… you started wanting out. I spent – the last year waiting for you. Watching you whenever I could. My obsession with you grew, and this one was neglected… until it got to the point where this is the first time in four months that I've been here."

He twisted his head slowly, eyes moving across their surroundings, breathing deep with a scowl. "The air feels different tonight. Clearer." His gaze settled for an unnerving moment on the blond. "I wonder it it's you." In this light, Roxas thought the tattoos on his face looked like scars. Like someone had gouged the skin from his cheeks. "I brought us both here," Axel said, mild once more, eyes shifting back to the building, "so we could maybe say good-bye together." In response to Roxas' blank look, he added softly, "That's your mom in there, Roxie. And your dad. When you first met me, your parents were alive. Now they're dead. A week ago, you told them you hoped they slept well before climbing into your Twilight Town bed. Fact is… they were never awake." He looked over, Roxas following his gaze with consternation, the words only now beginning to take root. "They were here all along."

Roxas' feet were moving before he was even aware of it, carrying him slowly across the cracked street. His shoes crunched over the gravel, coming to a stop at the edge of the devastation. Axel stayed where he was, watching on. Roxas' gaze was vacant, skating over the debris, mind struggling to convert Axel's words into reality.

His mom was in there.

He hadn't left her that night in Twilight Town – he had returned to where she waited under the rubble.

And now? Did she hear his steps? Did her bones feel his presence, and long to stir? Or, like Axel said, was she not here at all?

She'd never make him waffles, or write grocery lists at the kitchen table. She'd never leave a voice message on his phone, or send him upstairs to do homework while she did his chores for him. She wouldn't cook, and her small hands would never touch him again.

They never even… had.

And… Axel wanted him to say good-bye?

"Mom." His voice was a hushed rasp. He crouched, tears spilling suddenly, heedlessly down his cheeks, and pressed his hands against the nearest slab of stone, cold and gritty. Somewhere, she was lying, and Roxas felt the dark pull of Axel's obsession infecting his heart. "Can you hear me?" Absurd. Ridiculous. Futile, illogical, and completely necessary. "If you're still here…" What could he say? The woman – didn't even know him. Shaking badly, he whispered, "If you can hear me – " What did you say to a woman dead and buried, whose spirit might or might not remain?

Show me a sign? Find a way to tell me you love me? I'm sorry I didn't know the woman I thought you were? Sorry for forgetting you, and loving your digitalised shadow instead?

In the end, all the words he could find amounted to: "Don't – worry about me. I'll be fine. Just…" He swallowed, stood, gazed out over the ruins. "Just sleep."

He waited, for the reply that never came, and abandoned the obsession before it could consume him.

Axel was… looking surprisingly calm, all things considered. Because – he was saying good-bye, too, wasn't he? That's what he'd said. They were both meant to be doing it. But when Roxas joined him, he merely smiled tautly and asked, "Ready to go, Roxie?"

Roxas glanced over his shoulder, taking hold of Axel's arm and drawing close, losing himself again in the redhead's heat.

See, mom? I've got someone that loves me. He'll make sure I'm happy.

As they left, he could imagine her clearly, pearly, translucent, sitting atop the destruction, chin in her hands, watching him walk away. And as far as he could tell, she was smiling.

.o.O.o.

They spent a while just wandering. No need to speak, each absorbed inside whatever closure he felt he had gained. Roxas was grateful to Axel. He'd been right – this was… definitely something he wanted. Axel had – very much made up every mistake with this gesture.

His blue eyes took note of little as they meandered, weaving slowly in and out between old and new Hollow Bastion, gradually drawing closer again to the Bailey. With Axel's purpose completed, there was really nothing else that either of them felt like doing this night. Roxas, at least, wanted to find somewhere quiet to let it all just – sink in.

They entered the market district, virtually deserted in comparison to the other day, crickets loudly chirping away. The stars overhead were bright.

A loud, brash voice halted them as they headed for the gate at last. Both drew to a stop, Roxas curious, Axel letting out a hissed, weary curse. Three men approached, wearing the uniform of soldiers, swaggering. Roxas frowned, stiffened, didn't know whether to hold Axel tighter or let him go to demonstrate his independence in front of these three. They sent out vibes that set his teeth on edge. Axel was looking less than pleased.

"Well, well," the tallest of them sneered. "Look what we have here."

Roxas could have sworn the asshole had taken lessons from Seifer, just in those few words. Axel tugged free gently of Roxas, cocked his head to the side, hands obviously itching for his chakrams. "Piss off, Bickson," he said coolly. "We're not doing anything wrong."

"Oh, you don't say?" the asshole said. "I don't know, that sounded pretty defensive to me. Who says I thought you were doing anything wrong?"

Axel snorted. "You're always on our fucking backs about something." He leaned forward, smirking. "You know, if you're really that keen on riding me, you should just come out and say it." Roxas started choking incredulously. Axel shot him an amused look, his earlier hushed state abolished. Meanwhile, the guard was rapidly reddening.

"Really, now," he growled, "if I'd wanted that from you, I'd have taken it that last time at the castle. Remember? When I had you on the ground, bleeding in front of me?"

"On one of your non-existent raids, yes, I remember," the redhead coolly replied. "And what happened next? Oh, that's right, the silver-haired kid with the funky sword just about gutted you over the darkroom floor. How's that coming along? Can you shit by yourself yet?"

If he was red before, the guy was now officially purple, teeth visibly grinding. He sucked at this swapping-of-insults game. "Just wait until next time, you piece of shit, I'll…" He trailed off suddenly, eyes flicking to Roxas. He smiled, a cold expression that made both males tense. Axel started glaring. "This your new fuck-toy, Axel? How's that coming along? He's looking pretty virginal. Think he'll measure up to all the others?"

All the others?

Axel snapped, "He's not a fuck-toy, and you need to back the fuck off. We were just leaving anyway."

"Oh-ho." An ugly leer came over the guy's face. "Touchy about that, are we? Don't want the little slut to know the truth?"

"Don't you call him that," Axel thundered. Roxas watched in confusion, with a small amount of fear. In the space of a few seconds, Axel had completely lost control of the entire situation. And what the fuck? Fuck-toys, truth?

"Sorry, you're quite right." The man affected chagrin. "After all, it's you who's the slut around here." He snorted, said to the blond, "Your boyfriend here is a grade-A whore, kid, he's slept with half the fucking populace of Hollow Bastion."

One of his buddies laughed. "And guess what I heard? Every time he comes, he screams out some other guy's name."

Oh, man. Roxas didn't like where this was going. He flushed instantly crimson, the heat overlaying the sting of the knowledge they were imparting.

Axel cracked. "Shut the fuck up!" he roared, eyes blazing, voice tearing from his throat. He lunged forward, yanking a mini-fucking-blowtorch from his coat pocket, lighting it up in a flare and aiming for the asshole's face.

"No!" Roxas grabbed him, hooked his fingers into the black hood and managed to yank him back, causing the redhead to nearly burn himself on the solid-looking flame.

"Roxas, get the fuck off me," he snarled.

The three men had leapt back, but now the one with the dark skin was laughing, pointing. "Oh, man, that's the guy! That's the name! Roxas! I fucking heard from this other guy I know, he always yells out 'Roxassssss'."

They burst into laughter, all three of them, and Axel's humiliation was complete. The hiss of the flame filled the air, Roxas' blush spreading throughout his entire body. Axel slumped, yanking free of him, clicking the flame off and waving it through the air to cool down.

"You son-of-a-fucking-bitch." Roxas' voice trembled with fury, shoulders hunched, fingers curled into fists. "You fucking assholes!"

He attacked the trio with only his hands, teeth bared, rage blinding him to his inabilities. It was just like the clock tower again, only this time, Roxas was without his keyblades. He got in a punch, a vicious bite that nearly ripped his teeth from his head when the guy jerked away with a yell, a hefty kick, and then he was down, smothered under their combined weight, each working to repay the blows and then some.

"Roxas!" The blowtorch relit with a sharp noise, Axel racing forward.

Then suddenly, it all stopped.

All the shouting, the grunting, the flesh-on-flesh of fists into his stomach and already-abused face, everything was gone.

The pressure disappeared from Roxas' body, the scuffle of feet filling the air, and strong hands pulled the blond to his feet. He was gasping, bleeding slightly from one eyebrow where the skin had split. His eyes swam for a moment, he blinked them clear. Axel clicked off his blowtorch a second time, head hanging, a bitter expression on his face. Hands were still holding Roxas. He swung his head dazedly, found himself looking at a pair of amber eyes beneath dark brows, long brown hair spilling around a narrow face.

"Who're you?" the blond panted.

"Are you alright?" the man asked in a deep, hoarse voice. His grip tightened momentarily on the blond, one hand feeling – wrong against him. When he looked down, he saw metal shining where there should have been flesh. His eyes widened.

"Yeah," he breathed slowly. "I'm… okay."

He was released, swayed and staggered slightly. Axel automatically caught him, then just as quickly let him go, as if burnt by the contact.

The man turned to Axel, and Roxas realised that there was only the three of them here. What had happened to the soldiers?

"I don't want this to happen again, Axel," the man said softly. "I'll have to let Leon know what went on here."

"Why?" Axel demanded. He was almost in tears, shocking Roxas to his core. He'd never even known that Axel could be capable of crying. Not like this. "Nobody got fucking hurt!"

"What about your friend?"

Axel's eyes lit briefly on the blond, torn, filled with rage, longing, regret. "He's not my friend," he spat. "He's a nobody. See? What'd I tell you? Nobody got hurt."

Without waiting to argue further, the redhead spun and stalked away. Roxas blinked rapidly, glanced over at the man, who gazed steadily back.

"Thanks for your help," the teen said shakily.

"My name is Vincent. I'm part of the Restoration Committee," he replied. "You're new?"

"My name is Roxas."

An eyebrow rose. "Ah," the man said, as if everything suddenly made sense. "Then I suggest you go after him, before he does something stupid like throw himself off a cliff."

Roxas' eyes bulged. "What?" He hissed, "Fuck." Then he started running.