I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

Biding His Time

"We have some bad news for you…"

Keiya hugged her sheets to her chest and sobbed silently into her pillow. It seemed like the happiness had been drained out of her forever—all she could do was cry. Just a couple hours ago, she'd received the worst news of her life: an emergency change of plans; a meteor shower estimated to approach within a few days of Riku's departure home with an "indefinite life-span". But all it meant to her was an unfair slice right through the precious time they'd been savoring day by day.

The conversation had been a blur of charts and computer diagrams, predictions and velocities that she presumed to be problematic. She hadn't been able to pay attention; as soon as Aerith had uttered her dreadful introductory words of warning, accompanied by Cid and Leon's solemn faces, she'd fallen into a whirlwind. She'd felt the blood drain from her face, and vaguely recalled Riku touching her hand to stop her from shaking. There'd been a lot of talk of plotting a new travel course, equipping a new ship with emergency supplies; and of course, rescheduling the departure date, hence bringing their already measly fourteen days all the way down to eleven.

When she'd woken up that morning, she'd had a whole two weeks left with him—exactly fourteen days, no more, no less. But in just half an hour, it had been decided that there could be only eleven—and even that many was pushing it. Cid had advised them to leave five days prior to the date they believed the shower would begin, but Sora had consented to taking a chance on just three. She knew she should be grateful that they would negotiate and stick their necks out just so she and Riku could have a little more time together, but she couldn't get over how quickly she'd lost three days with him. Here she'd been counting and keeping track of every single moment they had left together, and in the blink of an eye three whole days were just… gone.

To make matters worse, Riku would have to take the time to learn how to control the new ship they were using (Sora wasn't to be trusted with such a task). That took away even more time—at least a couple hours a day so he'd be comfortable enough to fly it home. Riku hadn't even known what to say to comfort her afterward. He'd walked her back to her room since neither of them had wanted to go out anymore, and had left her to herself at her request. She'd been waiting to wake up, trying to convince herself that it was just another nightmare—the type she had every night.

But she was starting to realize it wasn't.

The shock of the mortality of this dream she was living had thrust her into such a slump that she didn't even want to be happy. She wanted to make herself as miserable as possible. For the sake of suffering, she tried to envision how she'd feel watching him pack, tried to create dialogues in her head of things he'd say to her—probably to get her to agree to come home with him. She thought of all the preparations underway for the trip and all the torturous talks she'd have sit through, knowing that everything mentioned would only serve to take him far, far away from her. But most of all she pictured their final day—that day for which she knew no amount of psyching herself up would ever prepare her. It would be the worst, most regretful day of her life.

Outside her door she heard Riku and another male talking briefly in hushed voices. She stayed perfectly still to try and overhear, but the two pairs of feet shuffled back down the hall all too soon. All she'd heard were anxious murmurs and a distant laugh from the kitchen that struck her heart with its cheerful ignorance; she'd already forgotten how to laugh for any other reason than self-pity. She was admittedly disappointed that Riku hadn't come to her room. Of course she didn't want him to see her so pathetically miserable, but she did want to see him. She supposed he was too busy packing and discussing their plans at the moment, and rightfully so. But it still got to her. She curled up and turned her wet pillow over to start on the dry side. It was her foolish goal to have the entire thing soaked by nightfall.

She'd been picturing it in her head the whole morning: him leaving her. She tried to gauge how she would react, how things would flow. Normally she would feel stupid crying in front of everyone, but in the moment she figured she wouldn't have the energy to care. When she thought of there being a last kiss or a last hug, she felt her eyes swell with tears all over again. She tried to imagine his arms around her at the boarding dock and the feeling of loss that would come when he'd have to let go of her for the final time. Would she try to hold him back? Would she try to keep herself rigid and passive as the emotions ate her up on the inside? Behind closed lids, she saw his melancholy gleam of bitterness staring back at her. "We had some good times," it seemed to say, "but I guess it's over now…"

A whisper in her ear, his arms around her one last time…

Letting out a choked cry, she clenched a fist in her hair and tried to stifle any further outbursts with the tear-soaked pillow. Her throat hurt from swallowing so much back, and at the thought of his arms dropping from around her for good, her body forced out the painful gasps that came with sobbing. She didn't need a mirror to tell her that her face was red and pain-stricken. Such distressing thoughts evoked a sting in her eyes and an ache throughout her body, but she stubbornly continued her depressing fantasy.

She thought of what exchanges might spill forth in the midst of all the pent-up anguish. It seemed stupid to say "I'll miss you" as if he were going away on a business trip, and she wouldn't want him to think she was complaining. She knew for a fact that he'd try to convince her to come home with him up to the very last second, and that was when she'd have to bite the inside of her mouth and refrain from saying "yes". She was tempted enough just thinking about his leaving date; she would have to threaten herself with terrible images from her nightmares to keep her feet firmly on the ground where they belonged. And then he'd turn his back on her to climb aboard the ship. She would try to keep herself composed so that she wouldn't fall over or try to follow him, all the while screaming to herself, "Yes, yes, yes! I do want to go!" The engine would start up, and she'd strain to make out his face through the high-up blue-shaded windows, and then she'd see the grief painted on his face that would suffocate her in even more guilt. The ship would take off, and then…

Then…

Then I'm alone, she thought miserably. And I run away from here and probably end up back where I started.

She heard his footsteps approach again from out in the hall, almost as if he were debating whether or not he should knock on her door. She didn't blame him; she wasn't even sure whether or not she really wanted to have to face him right that second, and she knew she could be difficult to handle while she was under this much stress. She found herself peeking over at the doorknob to watch for any sign of movement, ready to bury her head into the pillow again as soon as it turned. But then she heard another pair of feet, clumsy and heavy, thud its way to the door, and she knew he wouldn't come in now.

She heard a secretive whisper inquire, "Did you talk to her yet?" as if she weren't listening just a few yards away, but heard no reply. She recognized it as Sora's voice when it came again, "Why not?"

She heard, "Before… she's already…" in a low voice, then a sigh, and "… so much… because…upset her any more." She was aggravated that Riku's voice was so much more discreet than Sora's; she wanted to hear him, but all she could make out were hushed fragments and words. She stayed attentive to hear the next few exchanges, but she had to rely on Sora's replies to guess at what Riku was saying. When Sora finally blurted "And she really won't agree?" she heard Riku nervously shush him and start away from her door. His voice got louder, but she couldn't hear over their shoes clapping on the polished wooden floor. She sunk back into her pillow.

Why won't you knock?

When they were out of earshot, she rushed herself back into the deep well of drowning thoughts to stay occupied. He'll come back… she told herself. And I'll try not to cry. She automatically became stuck on Sora's careless exclamation—after all, "what if?" was another nagging torment that made her head spin and her heart sick. What if she went with him? What would happen? It would be so easy to say "yes"; she'd become a new person—her own person—free to enjoy her life with Riku and let those feelings of love spread throughout her body without worry.

How bad would it be if I did go…? she wondered, allowing herself to play with the idea for a change. Usually she avoided falling into such a forbidden fantasy; she didn't want to think so deeply about something she knew she couldn't have. If I went with him, they might not know right away… It could take months—maybe years—for them to figure it out… and even then, only if they were really determined. If only they'd just forget it and let me go… Then everything would be perfect, she thought with a wishful sigh. But I doubt that would ever happen…

She thought of Riku and how happy he'd be if she finally agreed to his request. She thought of how it would light up his face, how he'd be filled with that charming, childish excitement and devotion, and how breezy she would feel, being swept up into the welcomed chaos of packing and making plans for their future. And in front of her, always in her mind, she'd be able to see a blissful life with him—nothing but clear blue skies and an isolated safe-haven where nothing could harm them. But she was disregarding the reality of the situation.

Her stressful nightmares forced her to consider the other outcomes; the things she really didn't want to think about, but certainly saw enough of every night: destruction, rejection, loss, death—they were all possibilities, and she couldn't stand it if any of them were to become the price of her happiness. It would never, ever be worth it to see any of those tragedies befall real life, and that was what held her back.

Even so, a part of her would just die if she were told, after watching him leave, that nothing would have happened to them—to him—and that no one would even care to look for her. Because by then it would already be too late; she will have missed her chance to join him. There would have been no cost… and she'd never see him again…

Why did this have to happen? she sulked, pressured by the strains of time. I want to go, but I know I shouldn't… I don't know what to do anymore…

~…~

"You said we were getting underway—you said that Maleficent was ready to commence our plans full-force! That was two weeks ago. Why are we still delayed?" an angry voice rang out from the crowd. A few grunts of agreement followed, and pretty soon the mass of robed men were engaged in a not-so-subtle declaration of grievances.

Sai couldn't comprehend how he could be expected to control their mutinous allies while he was having trouble controlling his own temper to begin with. He was only doing what he'd been ordered: giving them the latest news (which, of course, was sugar-coated and purposefully vague, dictated by hers truly). All he'd had to utter was "in just a few more days", and the whole council had flared up into a seemingly anticipated outrage.

He could care less about their complaints—he was troubled by the delays himself, after all—but he couldn't stand the lingering lack of regard they continued to show him. No matter how officially he presented himself, how confidently he spoke, they always treated him as if he were on their level, at best. He was their superior—their second in command, in fact; but these haughty low-lives refused to bend to the word of the young commander, so he was left to stand tall and stare out disapprovingly at his disobedient assignment.

"Everything is prepared and ready to be put into action at Maleficent's request." He was so used to skipping the details that lying to the henchmen hardly fazed him. It was all just part of his job. "It will take a few more days for—"

"Does Maleficent know how much we've invested in this operation of hers? Is she aware of how long we've been waiting for our work to pay off?" an impatient voice inquired.

"Which is exactly why she's taking her time to perfect all the plans," he said smoothly.

Someone gave a dry laugh void of amusement, and then suggested sarcastically, "I'm willing to bet we're still waiting on her runaway. Isn't that right, commander?"

Sai flinched at the blatant disrespect, his fists clenching, eyes glaring. I swear, if they don't wise up…

"What? Is that it?" someone else interjected incredulously. "Then we're getting nowhere! That girl isn't coming back—I thought this was settled ages ago."

Another voiced, "Does she take us for fools?"

"We've been waiting around here for months and have gotten nothing in return except delays and excuses!"

"Watch it," Sai warned, his voice razor sharp. "You forget who you're talking to."

He heard snickers begin cackling throughout the crowd, only serving to boil his blood more. He was trying to remain in a calm mind-set, but it was taking all his will-power to hold the anger in; after all, he could practically feel his head on the chopping block. Tensions ran high at these meetings now, and he'd been left alone to deal with the unspoken threats of mutiny. It was clear to him that his mistress hadn't shown her face in far too long, but no matter how he exaggerated the issue to her, she didn't seem at all rushed. Ever since she'd put together her scheme to infiltrate her apprentice's dreams she'd regained her once crumbled confidence. She was impatiently eager but undoubtedly convinced that things would work out for her, that she could make the girl come back and stay back on her own will, that they'd never have this problem again.

"Why doesn't she come down here? Give us the facts?"

Sai could laugh at them. Maleficent didn't like to be bothered with news of the council; her snappy advice was always the same: "I don't need this. Can't those fools wait a little longer? Go tell them we'll be back on track shortly—any day now, for certain. Go tell them; go do your job." Apparently she had more important things to attend to, though what, he wasn't sure. His task was simply to keep the group in one piece until Keiya returned—whenever that would be—and not to do anything utterly stupid.

Nevertheless, he had his own agenda. In five days, he would unleash a troop of heartless to stir things up where she was staying. Five days—he could hardly wait.

"These are the facts," he asserted. "I'm her apprentice, and my word is as good as hers."

"It is not. You are a student. I want to hear from the master."

He felt every muscle in his body twitch with the impulse to charge forward and knock the guy out senseless; but he bit his tongue and clenched his fists, settling instead for a nasty glare. Didn't they get it? This was his responsibility—a position earned by years of hard work and sacrifice, his chance to practice and prove himself competent. But they were too stuck-up to show any respect for their better just because he was a few decades younger. Their laughs of pity made his fists itch for a fight. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't worth it no matter how great he knew it would feel to tear that guy's limbs from their sockets until he cried mercy. (Then they'd see who the strong one really was.) He pictured it in his mind to quench his thirst. They'd get theirs when the time came; he'd make sure of it. He was expecting a promotion with more freedom within a year or two, when this council would be all used up and it would be time to make room for the new recruits.

"It's the same every day! 'Just a little longer'? Give us a date, at least! She should be grateful we're all still here," one said daringly.

"You should be grateful to be a part of this operation," he shot back stealthily. "Unless you'd rather join your traitor friends whose hearts were rip out and donated to the cause. Trust me—that can be arranged faster that you'd think."

There was a moment of irritation filled with murmurs of criticism, intolerance, and unspoken fear. They wanted to argue—he could feel it. Some of them were visibly restraining themselves, not able to stand an eighteen year old talking back to them. He knew they hated him and thought him a brat, but the fact that they'd still have to listen to him made it all the better. Nothing compared to the thrill of being more important that those who hated him, those who were steaming with jealousy. It made him want to exercise his power more just to piss them off. And if it took being so frank to keep this group in line, he was more than all for it.

"We start when Maleficent says we start—end of discussion. If you have anymore complaints, take them up with her."

No one said anything. It had recently become silent, common knowledge that taking anything up with the witch herself was not a wise idea—even for her older, more valuable workers. No one wanted to risk becoming food for the heartless like the others had, and in Maleficent's eyes, the complainers would serve her much better in such a position. They took most of their anger out on Sai instead, but he was determined to beat down their attitudes with revenge. His grudges were strong and would last for years without wavering; he knew he'd have them unwillingly showing respect once things were able to fall into place. It was only a matter of time.

"If there are no more comments," he said icily, "you're all dismissed."

They filed out one by one, some scoffing at him, all the agitated conversations resuming as they stepped through the doors. He eyed some of the trouble makers who had spoken out so freely at his meeting with a vendetta burning in his eyes. He'd watch them carefully now. What right did they have to speak so nonchalantly in his presence? He was beginning to realize that Maleficent was right—he didn't want a laid-back atmosphere. No matter, though; he'd fix everything. They wouldn't have these henchmen forever, anyway. Maleficent would replace them in a few years for a more obedient bunch whose power and egos she could more easily influence. And when Keiya came back, things would be different.

He took a portal back to his room on the top level of the fortress, and once there, summoned a simple, small battalion of heartless to deliver the usual news: the meeting went well enough, the council was still acting up, and so far there were no more losses. He scribbled down his report on the thick parchment and sent it off with the shadows. The formatting of such a paper that had once seemed complicated to him was now second nature. He knew which details to include, which were extraneous, and how to mold his words so as to hint that she should speak to the men personally; otherwise, he knew he'd be standing in her office for a stern lecture in "just a few days".

His room was as simple as always, but he'd made some effort to make it seem more professional. He hardly touched his bookshelf, but every once in a while he rearranged the books so Maleficent would think he was reading them. Not that she ever came into his room, but he didn't want to be caught unprepared. He had put away the picture of his parents; he hadn't found the time to repair it or get a new picture frame. Besides, it would make him appear all the more childish: nostalgic and clingy. So he kept that filed away. He was sure that in a few more months he'd finally have the courage to throw it away for good.

And on his desk he kept a piece of parchment, blank except for four tally marks: one for each day he'd waited so far. Trying to conceal his excitement and jittery impatience, he strolled to the hard wood table, shakily picked up his pen, and made another line straight across the other four. It was day five: the half-way point.

I knew this idea of hers wouldn't work… he thought, thinking of his mistress's time-consuming antics. This is the right way to do it. Only five more days… and when Keiya comes back, Maleficent will have to acknowledge my work. He told himself so everyday day; admittedly, he was nervous. He hoped it would turn out this way—he didn't see why it shouldn't—but in the past whenever he'd planned something, it had always turned out wrong. Nothing had ever worked out: trying to go after his comrade when she'd left, interrogating people as to her location, searching for her with his entourage of heartless… Maleficent had always had some complaint or other to throw at him whenever he tried to take charge of something. But he was so sure of his plot; it excited him that this could be his one perfect idea—his ticket to more power. And he prayed day and night that Keiya wouldn't come back until after he'd sent his heartless. He wanted his plan to have been the deciding factor.

He paced around his room, filled with energy and hope, heart pounding with anticipation. He was ready; he knew which heartless he was sending and what he would have them do… But there was so much time left he could hardly stand it. Waiting for this date was a million times worse than waiting for that Radian Garden invasion. This was his strategy, his rise or fall, and all its success and failure rested upon his shoulders.

~…~

Time's running out.

Keiya found herself in the middle of a cold, dark street in an unknown place, and no matter how far she traveled, her surroundings never changed. She was looking for something, someone, but was caught in an impossible labyrinth. Her vision blurred, her legs felt wobbly, her mind struggled to focus. Thoughts drifted through her head hazily, but one coherent fact rang in her ears over and over so that she couldn't concentrate on anything else: He's leaving, and you're late.

She ran at a desperate speed to try and find him, but there was no end to the vast, empty town. No lights adorned the side of the road; no signs were posted to direct her… But she knew he was near and that she had to find him. He was going somewhere, and she had to get to him so she could go, too. Otherwise she'd be in here alone, forever…

She sprinted as she heard a loud engine start up and echo throughout the night sky. She didn't know where she was going, where the noise was coming from, but she knew she had to get there fast. Rain started pouring down from the sky like tears as if the crescent moon were crying. The roar of the engine in the distance seemed to drown out her drumming heartbeat. She swept carelessly through puddles and around sharp corners. All she could think was: I have to get there; and in her frenzy, she tripped on a loose stone and crashed down onto the wet, hard pavement.

Hurry…

She could almost hear him.

The rainwater mixed with traces of blood as she hastily hoisted herself up. Her knees were scraped open and her hands battered from the fall, but she ignored the searing pain and forced herself to keep running. The engine's cry became louder as she pushed herself forward, and her mind was wiped clean with a dreadful sense of hope. I'm almost there…

But just as the cry peaked at its loudest she was forced to stop short at the revelation of a large concrete wall erected before her, seemingly an extension of the very street upon which she ran. She stood in front of it, dumbfounded, as a large and loud clanging sound momentarily muffled the engine.

The gate is closing…

She backed away from the stone wall shakily and turned her head every which way, in distress and in vain, to locate an alternate route, another way to reach him. Only a pair of small and unfriendly looking alleys bridged off the main road, both mysterious and bumpy and impossible to see into; and she frantically stumbled back and forth, trying to determine which one was the right path to take. All the while the engine barked above her, rushing her and urging her on. But they both looked the same and she didn't want to choose the wrong one, and the ship was just so nearby… She was sure she could reach it if she chose right…

And then, from an unknown point in the streetscape's horizon, a vessel took flight into the air—its growling louder than ever—and it flew over her head high in the sky until it blinked out of her sight.

All the lights flickered on and the concrete wall vanished, but all that remained behind were the take-off dock and some slow-moving stragglers cleaning up the site. Everything seemed cut-off, unclear, off-beat, and when she hurried forward and approached them, their voices seemed to taunt her.

You're too late… he's already gone.

Hopelessness washed through her body, through her veins, as she stood stunned and tried to comprehend what had happened. The ship wasn't there anymore—he wasn't there anymore—and the sun was just starting to peak up over the horizon in his place.

"But…" Her voice came out as a meek whisper, a breathless mirror of her immobile stupor.

You were late, she heard again.

A series of knocks at her door subtly began to pull her from her weak doze, but as long as she could see the bizarrely lit up city now cast moving shadows on ground, she searched the sky for a hint of movement. She felt that she was no longer connected to the pain in her legs and hands; her body was numb and shock-stricken. The rain cleared up to make way for a mean red sun, and she found her own tears unconsciously falling in place of the droplets. Aside from the stragglers, the streets remained empty.

"I missed him?" she heard herself ask weakly. No one answered her; they just continued their work. "D-did I really miss him?"

The sky turned a deep orange with the sun's burning rays as it swiftly passed through the heavens, and when she summoned the energy to bring a hand up to block the light from her eyes, she found that the brand on her wrist—clear, deep, and dark—was spilling hot blood down her arm. She felt herself sinking away from the place, slowly being drawn towards an irritating pattern of knocks coming from another plane of consciousness.

"I really tried to get here in time…" she argued limply, trying to change the run of events. But it was no use arguing with fate, and no one stopped to help or pity her. She stood there blankly in defeat, having been just a hair's width away from catching up to him. She felt the whole town stumble with her as a voice called out from afar, and within a few seconds the dreamed faded out to reveal reality.

"Are you alright, Keiya?"

She dazedly fluttered her eyes open, the darkness of the room startling to her. She was lying over the blankets but holding the sheets tightly, and her skin was coated with goose bumps due to the cool draft coming in from the window. Right away she noticed a warm presence near her, the soothing voice she'd been longing all day to hear right above her. Her breath hitched nervously when she registered his hand resting on her waist. He was so close.

"Keiya?" he anxiously called again. He was kneeling next to her on her bed, having let himself into her room since she hadn't answered the door. He felt his heart swell with guilt as he took in how disheveled she looked. He hated that she was suffering so much because of this, but there wasn't anything he could do to ease the despair.

She kept her head down so she could take shelter in her pillow. He'd finally come to talk to her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to face him like this, so messy and pathetic; but she knew she didn't have a choice. He always hung around her when she was down whether she wanted him to or not. And she did want to see him. It still hurt to swallow and her eyes were starting to drip tears as before, but she felt strangely grateful as Riku's voice drew her completely out of her nightmarish mind-set.

He's here now. He came after all…

"Y-yes?" she let out reluctantly, her voice on the verge of trembling with emotion.

He paused a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh…" she forced out, her voice high, wispy, and unconvincing. He brushed some hair from her face, making her heart jump in bliss and terror. Her back was to him, but she could still feel his eyes on her. She knew she'd looked like a mess before, and now after this stressful nap she was sure she was a complete wreck. Her throat hurt, her mind was fuzzy... She could still feel a red ache in her eyes, and he was bound to see it. She thought she'd ask him to leave her alone, so then she could wash up and talk to him later. After all, she was glad he just came to check on her…

Riku wordlessly reclined and lay down next to her, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her from behind. One of his large hands traced from her shoulder down her arm, sending addicting chills throughout her body. He gently laced his fingers through hers when he reached her ice-cold hand. She found herself locked in his embrace, now completely barred from escaping the conversation and once again overly conscious of how much warmer his body was than hers.

Even though it was completely unrealistic, she found that she was hoping with all her being that he would tell her there'd been another change in plans—that they weren't leaving early anymore. She'd even feel like laughing if that were the case. But when he didn't say anything, the mood of the room still as somber as when he'd left her that morning, she knew there was no room for good news in this hazardous situation. Of course they had to leave early; they'd be safer, and she wanted him to be safe. But still...

He rested his head in her hair and let his lips graze the back of her neck. She managed to suppress a shudder and instead curled up to her blankets more. Keeping her mind focused on controlling the quake in her voice, she asked quietly, "Did you… did you get anything done today?"

Riku's chest stung to hear her speak in such pain, with such suppression. It bothered him that she was trying to keep herself composed; he wanted her to share with him all her troubles, all her sorrows… The more she tried to hide things, the worse they both felt.

He'd walked in there with a goal: to convince her to give in and let him take her home. This rapidly depleting time frame had been stressful enough on her already, but he was hoping that this cut would finally push her over the edge. If not, he wasn't sure what he'd do… He'd spent a good portion of the day trying to think of some way to bring up the topic, but nothing had really seemed to be able to make enough of an impact. He decided just to ask her straight out, to take advantage of this terrible situation and force an agreement out of her.

After a moment, he vaguely replied, "Yeah, I had to get used to flying the new ship and stuff…"

He felt like he'd been cut off by the silence.

She made no acknowledgment and just kept her face forward, away from him. She discreetly tried to wipe her eyes dry, but no matter how vigorously she rubbed, the tears kept coming.

Deciding there was no use putting it off, Riku took a breath and subconsciously tightened his arms around her. "Listen, Keiya…" Already he could feel her tense up. "I know you don't want to hear it again, but I'm leaving in just eleven days now. And after that…"

She gave up on trying to rid herself of the tears; his words were torturously reminding her of everything she wished would just go away and leave her alone: the time limit, the stress, her reasons for not wanting to go with him…

"You can come with me—just hear me out," he requested, feeling her try to wriggle out of his grip. She fought for freedom from his arms, but he continued to grapple her to him as he tried to get his words to sink into her head. "We can build a life together; we'll be able to see each other every day—"

"Just let go of me…"she murmured meekly. She tried to pry his arm off her waist, now feeling trapped more than comforted. When she felt him shift a little to hold her more efficiently, she let out a frustrated plea and elbowed him in the arm to get him to release her.

"Ow! Ugh, don't move! Listen, we'll figure everything else out later," he continued, not allowing himself to become discouraged. "Whatever you're worried will happen we can fight off—"

"You don't understand," she interjected harshly. She rolled out of his reach when he grasped his arm, now starting to feel guilty at having hurt him. She sat up, rigid and stubborn, and made sure to keep her face from his view lest he see her so pathetic.

"Keiya, everything is going to work out. I promise it will, but you have to come with me or none of that can happen."

"I know," she asserted in fear and annoyance. The whole ordeal was driving her crazy, tearing her apart. She wanted to please him, to say 'yes' and stay with him forever, but the conflicting worries of destruction were still holding her back and making her feel guilty. She blinked back another round of tears. There was just too much at stake for her to decide easily on the best option, and when he kept pressuring her for an answer, it only made it worse…

"You have no reason to be afraid. Don't you trust me?"

"I do! But if something happened… I couldn't…" she was cut off by a cry she couldn't stifle any longer, the shakiness in her voice that had to break free, and she instinctively jumped up from the bed to run away before he could see her truly make a fool of herself. Riku threw himself forward to snatch her hand just before she could walk out of his reach. She took in a sharp breath as he kept her from escaping, then he crawled across the mattress and stood up next to her, automatically releasing her hand when he heard her start to cry. Instead, he snaked an arm around her waist and turned her around to face him.

She'd brought a hand up to her forehead as soon as the first sob had broken free. Just knowing that he was standing right next to her to witness her fit made her want to cry harder; it seemed so selfish to be sad when all this was merely for his safety. She felt his arm settle around her again and his other hand reach up to her face to coax her out of hiding, but she stayed as frozen as ice.

"Hey, don't run away from me," he ordered flatly, annoyed with her lingering habit.

She could feel herself on the verge of hysterics. "I-I don't know… what I want anymore…" she admitted, feeling childish. His heart leapt with the hope that she was finally going to give in.

"Just come home with me. There's no need to be so upset…" he said convincingly.

His smooth voice enraptured her and swerved her mind off course. If she tried to speak, she knew she'd just agree—the longing was that strong. But the small, sane part of her made her bite her lip and keep her mouth clenched shut; made her save this decision for when she was less emotionally compromised.

"Keiya?"

"…I know…"

She swallowed back a painful sob and felt herself shiver uncontrollably. Riku touched the wetness on her cheeks and pushed back all the hair on which she'd been relying to cover herself; he wanted to talk to her face to face. The cries mixed with a blush as he tore her away from each of her crutches—first her bangs, then the long strands of hair that had tumbled over her shoulders—ending with the hand she'd been using to cover her swollen eyes. His warm fingers gently forced her hand away from her face, entwining themselves around her delicate counterparts. She felt entirely naked as his gaze bore down on her but still, as always, lifted her heart up.

Riku's world crumbled as he observed how broken she was, how sorrowful a state he had left her in that morning. Even in the dark, he could see her sad lips, her drained cheeks, her desperate eyes. His chest swelled with grief. She was crying like this the whole time…And I just left her here. I'm such a jerk…he thought bitterly. He stroked the soft, pale skin thoughtfully, wiping away tears as they fell, taking in the stains that had engraved themselves onto her face: the undeniable proof of her misery. She was the mirror of despondency.

"I don't like seeing you like this," he commented mournfully, leading her a few steps backward to the bed where he soothed her to sit down with him. She obeyed without any further outbursts and relaxed in his arms. She knew if she continued fighting him, she'd only feel worse in the long run.

"Sorry..." she managed quietly after a minute. When she was able to summon up some courage, she let her gaze drift up to meet his eyes: steady and bright, but not without their own shade of discomfort. She realized for the first time that day that if he were feeling the same way she was, then his day must have been a million times more stressful. He'd had to face everyone with a composed face, had had to listen to talk of their separation for hours on end. She felt stupid for having been so paralyzed with hopelessness.

All at once she felt another wave of sadness rush over her, and he pulled her into him before she could take shelter in her hands again. She let the tears fall softly into his chest, where she rested waiting for them to end.

"I love you…" she said suddenly, her voice a whisper.

Riku's heart leapt with surprise, and he began absentmindedly tracing the clear, cool skin of her upper arm to occupy the rush of energy. "I love you, too…" he returned, tightening his arms around her. "And I want us to spend the rest of our lives together."

He felt her nod against his chest. "I want that, too…"

"Then come home with me," he pressed, trying to conceal the urgency in his voice.

"I…" She couldn't think of anything to say.

"Please? You'll feel so much better…"

"…I don't know what to tell you, Riku…"

He smiled into her hair. "You can tell me 'yes'," he suggested, trying to earn a grin from her. He felt her return his embrace instead, locking her arms around his neck.

"I don't know…"

He sighed and gently brought a hand to her chin to tilt her face up. Without a word, he let his lips fall to the faint, wet line drawn from her eye down her cheek. His kisses washed away the stain.

At the sweet sensation, all the nerve-wracking thoughts were shoved to the back of her mind. He had a way of distracting her. His lips traveled down her cheek until they skillfully skimmed over her own; and she shifted her hands up from his neck to his head to draw him into a real kiss, one for which she felt a sudden burning passion. She'd been waiting to see him all day—she wanted nothing more than to be with him now, to enjoy their time whether or not it was their last.

When they pulled away she buried her head in his neck, her lips shamelessly resting at its base. He found himself trying to imagine those lips climbing up his neck again; waiting for a kiss that wasn't coming.

As they sat there, the haze from his kiss slowly wore off and the demanding problems began trying to re-infiltrate her mind. She laughed briefly at herself and withdrew from him, her every movement filled with regret. "I don't know what I'll do when…"

"Shh…" He pecked her lips lightly.

She tried again, "When you're…"

"Keiya, don't think about it," he told her, trying to sound assertive enough to divert her attention from the subject. He took hold of her small shoulders and she reluctantly lifted her head to face him. "I told you: I'm going to convince you to come home with me. Remember?"

"…"

He leaned in and claimed her lips, resuming the kiss heatedly in order to steal away her focus. Her mind became cloudy all over again as his lips worked their magic and tore her away from the heavy burdens she carried. One of Riku's arms was wrapped fully around her waist, bringing her slim body completely up against him. His other hand held the side of her head in place so he could further deepen the lip lock. Brazenly, he nibbled her bottom lip, aching to taste more of her.

She gasped into the kiss as his tongue daringly touched hers. Heat rushed to her face and throughout her body, and her hands somehow found their way to the sides of his head, entangling in his signature silver hair. Her heart fluttered wildly; every touch, every passing second of his lips caressing hers sent adrenaline racing through her bloodstream. He could induce a haze over her focus; could make her forget her worries.

Riku let his hands plant themselves firmly on her waist as he leaned into the kiss, claiming dominance, trying to satiate the longing she'd ignited in him. He felt her body tremble against his, her fingers clench around his hair; he was starting to lose his bearings. His hands, acting on their own accord, slowly edged up her back to the smooth, small amount of skin exposed by the neckline's dip. His thumb traced circles over the flesh, reveling in its softness, hungering to feel more. He pulled back for a second to breathe, his lips still grazing hers, his breath filling her senses with a dangerous high.

A few seconds passed during which the only sound in the room was their quiet panting. Then without hesitating or contemplating his actions, Riku let his lips wander to the tempting flesh of her neck. Urgently, he sent butterfly kisses down the length of her clear, pale nape—exploring, tasting. Keiya's head tipped back thoughtlessly as he glided his lips all along the sensitive skin. When his mouth brushed a certain spot at the base of her neck, she caught her breath and couldn't suppress a small sigh of pleasure.

Riku instinctively fixated his attention on that spot, kissing and teasing the nerves until another sigh passed through her lips. His hands feverishly began roaming her back, her sides, her arms; nothing could quench his thirst to feel more skin.

Keiya was confused on the inside, still lost in her thoughts and the endless debate; but she knew for certain that right now she just wanted to be with him. Her body was at the mercy of an amorous desire that consumed her and left her incapable of conscious thinking. She pulled his face back up to hers for another lengthy, heated kiss; and trailed her hands down his chest, longing to remove the shirt-jacket to reveal the warm, toned skin she'd gotten to experience the other day.

As he traced up the curve of her back, his fingers brushed the zipper of her dress. His whole body went hot with temptation as he thought of the flesh that remained covered, unexplored by his senses. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and a new rush of excitement surged, forcing him to break their kiss to catch his breath. Her own hands had made their way down to his torso, playing with the edges of his open outer jacket which she was clearly mulling over taking off.

He gazed down to peer into her eyes: glazed over with a dark craving. Subtly, he guided her shy hands up the open zipper to the collar of the jacket, where she hesitantly slid it off his shoulders. She ghosted her finger tips over his neck before concentrating on the black inner shirt, while he allowed himself a few more deep breaths before encircling her in his arms again and relocating the back zipper of her dress.

She felt her world spin as his fingers slid down her spine, each inch further uncovering more of her skin to the cool air. His hands glided up her back, memorizing the dainty curve and the contours of her shoulder blades. His touch drew a whimper when it reached the sensitive arc of her lower back. She didn't want the sensation to end; not a single thought could make it across her mind without getting lost along the way. She was virtually numb to everything but him.

Riku uncontrollably dusted her newly revealed skin with kisses as he slowly pealed the fabric away from her figure. By the time he leaned her backward onto the sheets, his actions were purely instinctual and his mind was flooded with adrenaline; his last few conscious thoughts drifted farther and farther away as he continued listening to the unrelenting demands of his body.

~…~

Author's Note: Worst. Ending. Ever.

I hope this chapter got my point across, because I won't be taking it any further than this (O.o) I also hope it didn't seem too sudden—I have a feeling it might have, but if I don't start moving the story along, it'll never end (it's already going to carry over into twenty-eleven. I've decided to set the bar low and try to have it finished sometime before I go to college, at least.) I actually really wanted to end this chapter with Sai, but it didn't work out since I don't have anything else for him to do at the moment…

There's news on the "one-shot" (which may end up as a several chapter story) on my profile! Check there for details; there's a whole section for it now.

I need reviews, guys! Otherwise I have no idea how these chapters come out. Please spare a moment to leave one—especially if you haven't done so yet.

And regulars, you guys are amazing!