Here's the first chapter, peeps.

All revised and prettified for you! Everything is still under revision and construction for now. So please, enjoy!

As always, the characters do not belong to me. I'm just here for the food.

CHAPTER ONE: Free Fall

A cold breeze rustled the dingy shades atop the old window. Eight floors up and the sounds of the traffic below was more audible than it needed to be on a friday morning. Roxas leaned upon the sill, arms hanging out in the frigid autumn air. It was colder today than he remembered. He wiggled his numb fingers, noting the droplets that clung to his skin. It had begun to rain again, as it had all week long. Normally Roxas would find himself pleased with the knowledge, bringing a book and a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate to the spot on his bed by the window and enjoy the lullaby of droplets that assailed the world below. But today it only filled him with dread. A heaviness that had him rooted to the very spot. He didn't want to move... didn't want to think. Everything in his mind was hazy with sleep, drowning out the painful thoughts that assailed him on days like these, which he didn't mind in the least. The less he thought, the less he had to feel. And not feeling anything at all sounded pretty damn good right about now after the conversation he had with Dr. Gainsborough the other night. Something about treatments and medications being ineffective according to the higher ups in her department.

Chronic depression, they had called it. And with it came a whole new list of fun little drugs the doctors wanted to shove down his throat. None of them helped, of course. But that was only natural, as Roxas never took them. The moment he came back home, he would flush the offensive things down the toilet and be done with it. He would attend regular sessions with his therapist and drop a key word here or there to get the ravenous wolves down at the pharmacy off his back about how well his dosage was working for him or some such nonsense on their end. He inhaled deeply, staring at the washed out world below him with a clarity he did not wish to feel. It was too soon to be awake, too soon to rejoin reality. Yet the silence of his lonely studio apartment roused his vacant mind back into thinking. Pondering. Remembering. That he was alone, and without a single friend or loved one to return to. Hayner, Pence and Olette had all gone off to Destiny Islands University, leaving him with a promise to come back someday to get him, and to always keep in touch. It was such a simple promise, albeit a foolish one. Made under the setting summer sun on the beach they never fully got to enjoy. It was a promise he wanted to believe in. One that they had made with a smile on their faces. But that promise had long since been broken. Roxas never hearing from them again for nearly two years. Had that promise meant nothing to them? Was it all just an empty lie to satiate his childlike loneliness? He buried his face in the crook of his arm, feeling a twinge in his chest. It was definitely far too early to rejoin the land of the living right now. Seriously. Far to fucking early for this shit.

Hayner...Pence...Olette...

A buzzing sound pulled him from his bleak thoughts, sleep addle face turning to scan the small space around him. It was pitifully bare, to say the least. A single bed pushed up against the only window, (which he was now seated on, hanging halfway out of said window), and a small black wooden table in the center of the room with a single grey folding chair. His laptop sat upon the sad furniture piece, screen black with the charger tangled on the floor. Sheets of paper were strewn around it three styrofoam cups from Starbucks decorating the counter-top by the sink in the corner. He would have to remind himself later to clean up the mess before the ants or some such other unpleasant creature found its way into his home, drawn by the sweet smell of a mocha latte. Caffeine made the late nights fare more bearable for him as he typed away late into the night, words without any real wisdom flowing through his fingertips. The written word always gave him some form of escape from the real world. A place he could properly release all of the mephitic thoughts that never seemed to leave his skull. He felt that after today, he would need another long session with his trusty little sidekick if he wanted to properly relax tonight.

He shifted more in his bed, pulling himself away from the window to get a better look around, the buzzing growing louder. A quick sweep confirmed that It wasn't on the table, or on the floor, or on the kitchen counter, which, considering the apartment size, left less than few other places it could be. The buzzing became more and more obnoxious the longer he waited to answer the missing device. Damn it, where the hell did he put the thing? His gaze fell on the open door to the bathroom, his cellphone hanging on the doorknob by a black strap. The buzzing continued, but he made no move to retrieve the cell. It was 8am on Friday morning. He already knew who the message was from and what that message would say. He knew what today was, and he damn well wished he didn't.

After a few moments, the buzzing ceased, plunging the small studio back into the rythmic sound of pattering rain and distant traffic. With a soft sigh, Roxas leaned back out the window, closing his eyes and hoping that would be the end of it. No more phone calls. No more appointments. No more people. Just the cold air, the warm blankets, the falling rain, the-

A knock echoed in the tiny studio apartment. Roxas groaned.

"Mr. Kentell? It's me, Sasha. Are you home?"

The landlady... Roxas didn't like her. She was always trying to talk to him. Trying to soothe his loneliness. It made him feel like he was being pitied, like he was some kind of lonely little hermit who was grateful for whatever company he could get. (Even if he was, he certainly wasn't eager for anyone's company. Not hers, anyway). To top it off, she was always smiling, always laughing. Always cheerful. It unnerved the hell out of him that she would constantly try to direct some of that sunny behavior his way, try to rub some of it off on him like some sort of miracle ointment for toddlers. He didn't hate her. He just hated overly happy people who had no obvious reason to be so goddamn chirpy all the time. Maybe that made him a terrible person, or a selfishly arrogant one. But he didn't care. All he knew what he wanted to sit and wallow in the silence for a bit, and little miss sunshine was right outside his door, making sure that it wasn't going to happen.

"Mr. Kentell? Hello?" More knocking, this time a little more insistent. "Dr. Gainsborough is here, she's waiting downstairs for you. She says it's imperative that you come down immediately.." Sasha's voice was hesitant, uncertain. "I... I'm not allowed to let her come up since she isn't a resident, but she won't leave. Can you please come down?"

Roxas ran a hand roughly through his hair tugging harshly at it. Why the fuck was she so persistent? God, couldn't he just be left alone for a little while? His aggravation began to rise as she knocked unrelentingly at the thick wooden door. The last thing he wanted was to get up from his bed and face yet another day of his life. He just wanted to stay here, to listen to the rain and let his emotions bleed out. He felt so tired, so so fucking tired of everything. Getting up was the last thing he wanted to do right now. But knowing Dr. Gainsborough, she would march right up to the eighth floor and scold him for making her wait in the rain for him. Getting up and facing reality was unavoidable at this point.

"Yeah." Roxas said finally, the incessant knocking grating on his sanity to the point where he was ready to rip the door off its hinges and beat somebody with it. Getting up, he retrieved his black hoodie from the edge of the bed, pulling it over his head. "I'll be down in a few."

Sasha sighed with relief from behind the door, her usual cheery tone coming back."Do you want me to accompany you to-"

"I'm not a child, Sasha." Roxas spat suddenly, crossing the room and swinging the door open. He glared venemously at the small latino woman, not bothering to hide the annoyance he felt, "I can walk myself down."

Sasha took a step back, brown eyes wide with what might have been hurt. She let out a squeak of acknowledgement and walked quickly down the hall to the elevator. But not without a final backwards glance at the moody blonde before the doors closed. She had looked genuinely hurt by the cruel tone he directed at her, shoulders slightly slumped, hands clasped in front of her slightly pudgy body. She was a sweet woman by nature, but sometimes her attempts at helpfulness were a bit unbearable.

Roxas gripped the handle to the front door tightly, feeling like an A+ asshole for that little display of a temper tantrum he just threw. He hated it when people treated him with a friendliness he felt was forced. He didn't like feeling as if others were obligated to be kind to him just because they knew he was alone. They could keep their petty sympathy. He didn't need anyone's kindness, forced or otherwise. Roxas shook his head, grabbing his house keys off the hook by the door and shoved his feet into a pair of checkered high-top converse. The day would be a long one, of that he knew for sure. Long days meant longer intervals where his demons would have reign over his mind, causing his temper to prove more difficult to keep in check. Reality had a funny way of doing that to him, no matter where he went. Roxas didn't want to be that way... he didn't want to go off running around and scare little latino women who were only trying to be kind, or slamming things against the walls because he couldn't find proper release from the bitterness, or injure himself because the hurt that was lodged deep inside never seemed to go away. He let out a miserable sigh, clicking the door shut behind him before trudging down the hall. Why was it so hard to act like a goddamn decent human being for once in his life? Maybe there really was something wrong with him...

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, the view of the lobby meeting his tired eyes. Dr. Gainsborough stood in front of him as he stepped out, a warmth in her sea green hues that he didn't bother to appreciate today. She greeted him with a kind smile her long brown hair tied back in a neat braid, a pink skirt and pink blouse being her choice of wardrobe today. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor as she stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey there, Roxas. Did you sleep well?" Her green eyes scanned his, a hint of worry in their depths. Her smile never faltered.

He shrugged slightly, shifting in place. "Yeah, sure." Being around her made him uncomfortable, like she was looking right through him. Trying to catch him in a lie.

Dr. Aerith Gainsborough smiled again and ushered him out the door, thanking the uncertain looking Sasha for all of her help. Roxas avoided her gaze as he exited the building, not wanting to see the saddened brown eyes that would undoubtedly be searching his if he did meet them. Damn it all if he wasn't just a pissy little shithead today. He begrudgingly made a note to try an apologize to her when he got the chance. Sasha may be annoying, but she was one of the ones who helped him get this place, (shitty as it may be), and offer him a shelter from the coming winter. It may not be perfect, but the heat and electricity were free. Which was absolutely better than nothing.

Stepping out into the damp morning air had such a healing effect on his nerves. The rain felt so good on his face, the fog settling in around the town making him feel a strange sense of security. Twilight Town was never normally seen having this kind of weather during the fall season and though it took some by surprise, Roxas had wished nearly every year for days like this. The roads were hard to see, and the rain hadn't and everything was effectively hidden beneath the fog. Roxas could tromp around the town for hours with no on realizing who he was or where he was going. It was so very liberating for him in many ways. With another sigh, he awkwardly shuffled up to the the Prius while his psychiatrist rambled on about something concerning the conditions of the weather. But he wasn't listening. Even as they drove off, his mind never focused on her words, never made the attempt to converse in any way because he simply didn't want to. Whatever she had to say the other day was enough for him at the moment. The longer she rambled, the less he heard. It was how it always went with them theses days. Dr. Gainsborough knew it, and so did he. But that never stopped her from at least trying to keep the conversation going at any point. He applauded her efforts, but did nothing to initiate them. The sound of the rain was his only focus. His only means of drowning out whatever it was she was currently saying. The blessed sound of that lullaby entranced him to no end.

"...So they decided to agree upon the treatment, and we'll be starting it today."

Roxas looked up suddenly, his stomach churning. His mind picked a damned good time to start listening now. "What?"

"They wanted to start you on some new treatment, you know, just to see if it might help this time around." She glanced briefly at the blonde, her tone taking on that of a mother trying to convince a scared child, "It's only going to be for a couple of months, and they say the treatment has a high success rate with most patients in your... situation."

"Treatment? What the hell do you mean, 'Treatment'? I'm not some hospital patient, Dr. Gainsborough. I thought you said there wouldn't be anymore weird tests or treatments and all that other shit." Roxas clearly remembered the last 'treatment' they tried on him. It put him in a nightmare induced coma for a whole month. That whole fucking building was full of quacks who were quick on their feet to offer up a new and improved miracle 'treatment' to test on a willing (or unwilling) guinea pig. "Whatever it is, I'm refusing it. No way in hell am I being their fucking lab rat again."

Aerith tightened her grip on the steering wheel, the hesitation clear in her voice. "Roxas... I'm afraid there isn't much I can do. They said that you... aren't making any progress, and if you hope to get better, this treatment is needed." She almost sounded like she believed it too.

Roxas felt his face and chest burn with anger, hands clenching painfully. "I'm not trying to get 'better'. I'm trying to get out." He seethed. "My parents dropped me on your lap in the hopes that they could get out of claiming responsibility for another kid. They fed you lies about me being suicidal so they wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment of facing the mistake they made on their second honeymoon twenty years ago."

"Roxas, that's not why they-"

"Yes it is!" He yelled, slamming his hand on the car door, "I'm not 'broken'! I don't need to be 'fixed' by all these fucking treatments and sessions! I'm not a psycho! I've been telling you that for years and you told me you could help me get out of all of this! You agreed to make them stop!"

"Roxas... they just think you need a little help to-"

"I don't NEED their help!" his voice cracked. Roxas knew. Every day he could feel the darkness closing in around him, the icy fingers of fear threatening to launch him into a panic driven suicide. His parents had fed them all bullshit lies about him being overly depressed and suicidal. The torture he had gone through had caused himto be just that. He knew he had played right into their little fucking plot, and now he literally had no way of escaping this all on his own. It felt like he was a frog pinned to a tray beneath blinding lights, the manic smiles of some wack-job psychologists with scalpels poised above his belly, ready to make the first incision. It was a feeling of utter entrapment, of fear and anxiety in its truest, rawest form. And there was simply no way out of it.

Aerith sighed softly, pulling the car to a complete stop in front of a tall black building. The silence in the car was unnerving. One look at her face, and he knew the argument was a lost cause. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say... his parents had successfully lied through their teeth and gotten away with it. They were off somewhere on a beautiful island laughing and smiling and here he was, having his sanity slowly chipped away by people who could give a rat's ass about his well-being. Dr. Gainsborough exited the car, uttering a barely audible apology before Roxas heard the door to his side being opened and felt himself being forcefully ripped out of his seat. The rain had picked up outside, drenching is staggering body as he was dragged into the building's main lobby. Once inside, he tore free of the less than gentle grip of the two large men before him. One was very large, with small eyes and a wide brow whose nametag read 'Lexaus'. Intimidation meant nothing when one looked up at a giant like him. Roxas wondered briefly if this kind of person was really necessary to hire for this line of work. The second one, who stood in front of Roxas, was equal parts muscular, but considerably smaller than the one beside him. He had silver hair and tan skin, his golden eyes shining with something akin to malevolence.

"Hello, Roxas." the tanned man crooned, a smile on his face. "We have a new treatment for you that we would like to try today. Please, follow me." a violent shudder ran through his body. This guy was bad news. There was no doubt in his mind that 'helping' Roxas was the last thing these psychopaths had on their minds today.

The couch was made of leather and, despite the fact that his skin kept sticking to its surface, surprisingly comfortable. The room was decorated with large bookshelves and potted plants that stood in the corners. Faded olive green hues covered the walls, the floor beneath made of dark wood. Roxas stared out the window, the torrents of rain beating against the large windows that spanned the entirety of the walls, a small bay window with a seat being the only difference on the far corner of the room to his left. He gazed at the storm raging just out of his reach. Dazed and more than a little perturbed by his lack of focus.

"Hm. The treatment should yield results in a few months. But I doubt the boy will take the pills. Just bring him in every other week for a shot." There was a sound of clinking and metal. "He is notably calmer, at least. Which, given his foul attitude is a definite plus. Had to wrestle the brat for ten minutes before we could subdue him." He heard a snicker.

"Xehanort, sir? The file on patient Roxas Keller was transferred just now." shuffling, then the sounds of shifting paper. A deep voice spoke quietly somewhere in the room.

"Chronic Depression? What for, I wonder."

A humorless laugh answered, "His whole life, I presume." Xehanort scoffed and stared down at the catatonic boy. "The parents didn't want him, claiming that he wasn't even meant to be born. Kept trying to either kill him or give him away, claiming him to be unstable and practically suicidal. He suffered a lot of mental trauma from those incidents, causing his teenage years to fall into reckless habits including self-harm, or so they said. Regardless of whether those statements held any merit or not, his ability to cope with society was hindered to the point where he couldn't even function properly in large groups of people, let alone adapt to the ways of society. So says his file, anyway. Someone wanted to take care of this little 'issue', and contacted us to make sure this little problem child never bothered anyone again."

The room was silent for a brief moment. The deep voice sounded perplexed. "You mean they bribed the higher ups into admitting this kid into our care?"

"Not bribed. Offered, really. Offered a new test subject that it. Naturally, we are not allowed to speak of the matter. However," the sound of papers again... he couldn't seem to focus... "Regardless of whether or not that statement has evidence to back it up, his rash decisions and past mistakes are enough of an excuse to keep him here. They don't want to waste money on keeping him in an asylum up on Hollow Bastion. So they pay for a small room somewhere downtown for him, and force him into treatment every other use him for research purposes, they get him out of their hair, we get paid, they reap the benefits, boom; everyone is happy."

"Everyone except him." The deep voice commented. "Not that such a thing even matters, really."

A female voice called from down the hall, interrupting the discussion. Roxas couldn't hear what it was she was saying, but her tone indicated that the matter was urgent. There was a brief curse and clattering movement across the room before a loud buzzing noise filled the room.

"Get me the nurse from the west wing, and tell her to come up to treatment room two. We have a Roxas Kendell on treatment and he needs supervision." The crackling buzz sounded once more with an unintelligible answer and was then clicked off. "Lexaus, grab that bag in the corner and take it to Dr. Gainsborough. There's a file in there that I need her to take a look at concerning the patient in the east wing..."

The voices gradually grew distant, mingling with the warbled sounds of the busy halls outside the door. It wasn't until the room was filled only with the sound of the squall outside that Roxas attempted to move. The medicine they injected into his arm burned painfully, coursing up his arm and into his chest. He felt a strange sensation at the base of his skull as ethereal sounds began to assailed his ears, the walls swaying to the sound of each and every disconnected wail. Nothing at all felt real.

With what little strength the medicine hadn't taken from him, Roxas dragged his weak form upward, casting a glancing down at the needle buried in his arm. A sudden bitterness filled his heart as he gazed at the bruise the 'treatment' was leaving. It wasn't fair... It wasn't fucking fair. Why did he have to endure all of this... this bullshit while Sora, his brother, got to live away his years with a loving family on Destiny Island, going to the beach, laughing and happy and enjoying his life? Why was Roxas the one condemned at birth to a life of constant misery? There wasn't a single soul that loved him, that wanted him, that needed him! Why did it have to be HIM who wasn't meant to be born? HIM who was banished to this empty life? Why?

Reaching a shaking hand toward his right arm, he tore out the needle, in sheer anger. Blood spurt from the wound, darkening a spot on the floorboards and coloring a part of the leather couch in crimson. Pressing his hand down on the angry looking wound, he swung his legs off the couch and stumbled drunkenly toward the bay window. He knew from experience that they never locked the windows in the treatment rooms, because they assumed every patient would be too catatonic to even make an attempt at escaping. Roxas had dealt with more of these 'treatments' than any other patient here, and was still able to move well enough despite the lingering effects of whatever the hell type of drug they stuck in his arm. It was now or never. Drugged or not, he needed to get out, and get out now. He would figure out the rest some other time when his drug addled brain could find the strength to perform proper deductions based on reason. But right now wasn't the time or place for such things.

The thunder outside grew louder, reaching his ears in a deafening tone as he fought to push open the window all the way. His vision darkened briefly as he hung his head over the window sill. The medicine was working faster than he anticipated, which meant he needed to move fast if he wanted to escape. Swinging his right leg over the edge, he squirmed until he was straddling the sill, staring down below. Dammit, if his vision would just focus for a freaking second...He rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to regain clarity. The darkening of his vision made it nearly impossible to determine just how high up he was, or where he would land, making him hesitate long enough to hear the voices two nurses growing closer to his room. His heart pounded as he weakly forced the rest of his body out the window. The nurses came only in time to see a pair of checkered black and white converse sail over the edge of the sill and down to the busy street below.

The rushing wind was the first sensation. The a sense of flying, everything rushing past in a grey blur of cold rain. Just how high up had he been? How far down was the drop? Was this a dream? His arm was burning painfully... Roxas briefly wondered if the fall would kill him, and if he would mind the death at all. No answer came in that moment, and he felt it never would.

The pavement came into focus, black asphalt rushing to meet him as the rest of the world went into slow motion. Little things came to him with undeniable clarity in those few milliseconds of time;

A flash of red turning the corner, a sudden scream, a startled cry as a face came into view, staring up at his falling form.

Just before he hit, a pair of emerald eyes, filled with shock, locked onto his.

"Holy shit!" the voice sounded raspy, and reached him a fraction of a second before a deafening crack was heard and his whole world went black.

More edits to come for the other chapters! This one is fairly recent, but I made sure to go back and revise more of this issshhh.

This story has been a plot bunny for me for a couple years, and I wanted to make a story to connect with you peeps. Help me out by leaving a review? Or a message. I'm going to work on the next chapter tonight, so any late night owls out there are welcome to hang and chat and chide me into working hard.