CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Axel spent the remainder of the night sleeping on the far side of the bed he and Roxas shared. He didn't want to touch, and didn't want to be touched. When Roxas came to bed, perhaps an hour after Axel had stormed off, he pretended to be asleep, barely able to even feel the bed move as he climbed in.

Roxas was asleep fast, worn out by his night's efforts. Axel listened until his breaths had slowed and lengthened, before finally turning over, studying his relaxed, peaceful face. Must have been nice, falling asleep a Boy Wonder instead of a pariah. The thought made him curl up in shame, which is how he fell into slumber, where, even there, he received no respite.

He was back again. Back in the darkness. Back on the dark platform, which had shrunk since last he'd been here. He was alone, the chasm yawning beneath the unsteady stone, Axel turning on the spot, trying to see something – see anything.

Like a rumble of thunder from above, he heard Roxas's disembodied voice. "After you've slept, the swelling on your head will have gone down. When that happens, the pain will shift back to its original source in your shoulder. Axel, do you understand me?"

Axel hesitated. "What…?" He looked up in the direction of the voice, faltering before calling out, "I don't understand… Roxas?"

Silence. Then, beneath his feet, Axel felt the platform begin to vibrate. He dropped fast into a crouch as it rumbled and shook, before a large corner of it simply – broke away. A burst of light blinded him, a single beam of it slicing like a blade through the darkness, coming from below, and then Axel was blinking as sunrise dissolved night's gloomy hold over the mansion.

His head pounding, body slick with a thin, cold sweat, he took a moment to orient himself, not entirely sure where he was, or when. His eyes rolled, unfocused, reality seeming less certain than it had, as if at any moment it could all simply drift apart, before he turned his head and saw Roxas, and everything suddenly fit firmly back together.

He panted, only now realising that he hadn't been breathing for at least the last minute, frowning in bewilderment up at the ceiling. A nightmare. He'd had a nightmare, but he couldn't remember it. He couldn't remember anything but a deep, abiding dread that felt like a spider picking its way, inch by inch, up his spine.

He sat up, glancing sharply at Roxas, making sure not to disturb him as he pushed back the duvet and lowered his feet to the floor. His muscles moved stiffly, unforgiving of last night's battle, Axel wincing as the pain in his head stabbed in time with his heartbeat, finding no escape no matter where he turned. Inside, he was a mess. Outside, he was a mess.

He was just… a gigantic fucking mess.

Teeth grinding, he made himself stand, his long body swaying as his head went light… but after a moment, it righted itself, and he was able to move again. Without making a noise, he took fresh clothes from the dresser and went to shower and change. At this early hour, and especially after last night, he seemed to be the only one up, which suited him just fine. He dumped his old clothes into the hamper that Leon had sourced after growing incensed with Yuffie and Cid leaving clothes and used towels scattered across the wet floor, and washed away the blood, and the sweat, and the soot. He found a small, perfectly round scar on his chest, like a bullet-hole. Touching it, he shuddered, remembering the way it had felt to have his heart stopped, his body crunched from the fall.

But because of Kairi…

He formed a fist with his hand, but only – bumped the wall with his knuckles. He then sagged against them, staring into empty space as the water pummelled his sore flesh and saturated his thick hair until it was flat and long. At length, he reached a hand out, and turned the taps off one at a time, not even flinching as, for a moment, it was nothing but ice. He stood there, dripping, for several long minutes, before reaching for his towel. It was like – like every thought was coming to him through tar. Everything moved too slow, from his thoughts, to his reactions, to the entire goddamn world. He felt… weird. Out of sync.

He patchily dried himself off, squeezed the water from his hair, and got dressed. Slowly, he rubbed the fogged-up mirror, and gazed uncertainly at the tattoo-free face on the other side. He wasn't… himself. That wasn't Axel. That was… someone else, surely? Someone else who looked like him.

Please, let it be somebody else's face.

As the thought made his expression contract, the mirror copied him, showing a strained, distressed young man and he didn't – he didn't want to see it anymore. He didn't recognise himself.

Turning away, he left the bathroom rapidly, heading for the kitchen, where with shaking hands he boiled water for instant coffee as bitter as he could stand it. Then, not wanting to run into anyone once the manor started waking up, he headed outside, where he almost immediately ran into Naminé. Judging by the fleeting look of startled dismay that crossed her face, he figured she'd come out here for exactly the same reason. He halted at the sight of her.

"…Sorry," he awkwardly offered, for having broken her solitude. He seemed to be making a habit of this.

She quickly shook her head. "N-no, please. I'm. I shouldn't even be out here, should I?" She sighed, and went to return to the house, until, with a gentle hand, Axel paused her.

"You were here first. I'll go somewhere else. It's fine."

Instead, she stared up into his face. "…You're Axel."

"Sometimes," he replied, heavily.

A cool breeze passed by, the distant sound of a train's first horn sounding out, causing them both to look over in the direction of the town. Keeping her gazed fixed on the distance, Naminé quietly said, "I came out here to watch the sun rise. I can't remember the last time I saw the sun." She took a moment to bask in it, eyes alight with wonder, before turning back to him, her eyes passing over his hair, his face, his clothes. "I've known you existed for so long." She reached out as if to touch him, test that he was really there, but hesitated at the last moment, not quite brave enough to find out.

"But you didn't tell Xehanort about me?" Axel asked. She fell silent, head lowering as if he'd reprimanded her. After a long moment, he realised, flatly, "You told him about Demyx, huh?"

She flinched. Bingo.

"I'll go," she whispered, but he tightened his grip on her, keeping her in place.

"I get it." He didn't look at her, continuing to squint out in the direction of the town as he sipped his black, bitter coffee. "You weren't exactly a volunteer." He released her, so that if she wanted to, she could still go inside. He just wanted her to know he didn't hold it against her.

She wavered, glancing at the house, then, after thinking about it, deliberately turned her back on it, joining Axel in horizon-watching. For a while, they simply stood there, side by side, as the sun climbed higher into the cloud-streaked sky, over greenery, over rooftops, over the far-off clock tower. Axel just drank his coffee, and let the girl exist on her own terms.

"I know," she said eventually, her words unsure, "that you and Demyx were close. Proximally, at the very least."

Startling them both, Axel barked out a laugh. It was a strangled sound. "That's all you knew about us, wasn't it? Where we were. Not really who, not really how, not really why." He finally met her gaze, torn between pity and frustration. "He's my best friend. He's always been my best friend. But now…" He sighed. "Now, everything's fucked up. Me included," he added in a mutter. "And you didn't have anything to do with that."

"Roxas woke you." She stated it, didn't ask it. "I felt you flare when you woke." She nodded slightly, to herself, but shot him an uncertain look. "I was hoping he might."

Axel frowned. "You… hoped? You were expecting this?"

"I was hopeful that making Roxas aware of Demyx would make him aware of you," she answered softly. "And that maybe, somehow… that would make up for what I'd done."

After another minute passed, during which Axel processed this new information, he asked, mouth dry, "How did you choose?"

Her head sank back down. "…Demyx was the better option, since he has the ability to heal others." Just as Axel was finding himself at a new low, she continued, "I knew that if I picked you out first, Xehanort would notice Demyx as well. By selecting only Demyx, I… I did what I could." She looked at him with quiet anguish. "I did what I could."

He regarded her with sorrow. "You did – good," he promised her, voice cracking slightly. Hunched, they fell silent again, Axel tipping the last of his hideous coffee out on the ground.

"Roxas… spoke about you." Naminé spoke up again, haltingly. "He seems nice. He seems to care about you a lot."

"Roxas is amazing," Axel said. "He's this – incredible, tough, adorable god of space and time." As soon as the word 'time' left his lips, he grunted, biting the inside of his lip as pain shot through his skull.

Alarmed as he swayed, Naminé asked, "Axel? Axel, what is it? What's wrong? Should I get Kairi?"

"No!" It came out fiercer than intended, the girl recoiling as he gripped his head with one hand, jaw muscles pulsing as he endured the spike. "I'm… I'm okay. I just – I think I'll go back inside for a while."

"U-um. Me, too," Naminé hurriedly blurted. "Do you – do you want to maybe lean on me?"

"I'm fine," Axel growled, ignoring how crestfallen she looked, another slab to add to the guilt pile, and left her standing there. He swept into the kitchen, slamming his empty mug in the sink, using the counter to hold himself up as his vision went briefly white. He gasped, then gagged, heaved, and threw up. He felt his legs fail, felt the hard tiles hit his knees, his body twisting as he stubbornly clung to the counter. He wasn't letting go. He wasn't going to let go. And, slowly, slowly, the feeling faded, leaving him exhausted; hollowed out and raw inside.

Feebly, he dragged himself back upright, and turned on the faucet, washing his vomit down the drain. He cupped a handful of water and rinsed his face, then captured a mouthful and swished it, spitting it into the sink just as Aerith and Tifa walked in.

"That's charming," Tifa archly commented, Axel shutting the water off, turning unsteadily with his dripping chin, face white, eye sockets dark. Beside her, Aerith clutched her shoulder, then made straight for Axel as he leaned all his weight against the counter's edge.

"I'm fine," he muttered, again, as she inspected him, poking and prodding at him in irritating ways.

"You are most certainly not fine," she answered, voice low but determined.

Then Kairi walked in, asking, "Something's wrong? Axel?" and he yanked himself free from Aerith's inquisitive fingers.

"I said I'm fine!" His shout stopped everyone in their tracks, harsh and angry, causing their ears to momentarily ring. Then, hissing, "Shit," he pushed away from the sink and went to storm out. He made it halfway across the room before slamming to the floor, a collection of cries growing coming from far away as his consciousness dimmed. But with a clutch of terror more powerful than any amount of pain, he shrank back from the darkness, forced his eyes open, blinking hard as the world spun and twisted. He gasped slightly, trying to pull away from it, but wherever he went, the spinning followed. "What's happening?" he groaned, writhing, crying, as it all started to slow down even further, before speeding up, too fast now, his body going rigid. The kitchen became less and less stable around him, seeming to shake, like a heavy earthquake had hit, but the only one screaming was Axel.

Then Roxas took several heavy steps towards him, and slapped him full across the face. When Axel's scream faltered, he smacked him again, across the other cheek, Aerith crying out, "Roxas!" as the copper taste of blood touched Axel's senses in amidst the towering terror.

And it was enough. It was enough. That familiar flavour, like sucking pennies as a kid, the fact that it was accompanied by its own particular sting within his mouth, brought him back from the edge. Time… settled. Everything settled, and he was sobbing, clinging to Roxas like a child, forgetting everything else except the fact that the pain was gone, the spinning was gone, the world was as it should be, and Roxas was here.

When he eventually returned to himself, some shuddering minutes later, Axel found that he was – on the floor. With Roxas in his arms. Immediately, he let go, scrambling to his feet. Wiping his swollen face with confusion, he demanded, "What – have I been crying? What's going on?" He sniffed hard, scrubbing his cheeks with his sleeves in utter bewilderment. The last thing he remembered was… it was… He looked at the sink. "Oh, shit, I think I threw up over there."

Those gathered seemed to sigh in unison. He couldn't remember any of them actually entering the room, though. They were just suddenly – there. Before he could start to think too hard about it, however, Aerith was at his elbow, gripping him more firmly than he'd ever been held in his life. The woman straight up turned him around, took hold of his arms, and frog-marched him out of the kitchen. "Axel's going to have a little check-up in my workshop," she grimly informed the others, steering Axel forcefully through the house until they reached the basement door. Reaching past him, she opened the door, removing an oil lantern from a hook on the wall and lighting it with a match from her pocket. Handing Axel the lantern, she ordered, "Downstairs."

Turning his gaze uncertainly from her stern expression to the gloom beyond the door, he lifted the lantern and started his careful descent. The steps creaked and groaned every time he set his weight upon them, but fortunately weren't disintegrating just yet. A strong, earthy smell rose to meet Axel's nose, among which hung the unpleasant odour of fertiliser. Holding the lantern higher, his eyes widened as, halfway down the stairs, several large, white, featureless shapes were illuminated, Axel releasing a yell and stumbling into the wall.

"Axel, Axel, hush," Aerith urged him, hopping down to his step and touching his hand. "They're just mushrooms. Just mushrooms! See?" She took the lantern from him and held it up again, the pale, phantom-like shapes turning out to be – the tops of mushrooms, just like Aerith had said. And beyond that, there were more. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he started to see colours, an entire ecosystem of some kind of forest of mushrooms spreading out into the darkness.

Grabbing the lantern back, he hurried down to the base of the loudly protesting steps, his bare feet meeting not hard flooring but soil, soft earth like in the forest at Ansem's tower. But there were no trees here; only fungi. There was a clear path between them, Axel following it with Aerith behind him, passing a variety of sizes and colour and species the likes of which he'd never seen. "This place is incredible," he mumbled, overwhelmed by what Aerith had achieved in such a short period of time. She had turned the basement into a fungal fucking jungle.

"Well, Tifa helped a lot," Aerith modestly replied. "Having an earth god around certainly comes in handy when you want to start a new garden."

"A new garden? This place is like a goddamn wonderland," Axel breathed, staring around in wonder. "I didn't even know mushrooms could look like this."

"Well, I do foster a certain response from them," she confessed. "I help things along to suit my needs, so long as it doesn't harm the plant."

"Harm the plant?" Axel echoed, dubiously. "Can plants even be harmed?"

"Oh, certainly. They can become stressed, just like us," she replied earnestly, touching her fingertips together. "They struggle for room and resources, as we do. They break down and return to nature, the same as us. We're all part of a much larger whole, working in synergy to create, well…" She shrugged lightly. "Life as we know it. But the really interesting thing is what's happening underground!" Eyes shining, she crouched and hovered a hand over the soil, closing her eyes and smiling. "That lovely mycelium. An entire root system filled with magic, and life, and the desire to help. It's the basis of my work."

"So the mushrooms…?" Axel gestured generally.

"Are mostly ornamental," she said. "I use some of them in our cooking sometimes." As Axel felt some belated concern, she went on, "The mycelium is where all the nutrients gather, like a webbing beneath our feet. I harvest it depending on which mushroom cluster it most closely associates with, and process it at my workbench into either a generic or specific powder. They all go towards my various recipes, such as the cures."

Axel gazed around one last time, before Aerith moved him along. Her workbench came into view, sitting low in the dirt. Taking the lantern from him, she dipped a long match into its flame, then carried it to a second, larger lantern, hanging from a pole hammered into the earth. As its wick caught, the workshop came into better view, the brightness of both lanterns working to make the immediate area almost warm. There was a stool tucked beneath the workbench, which Aerith drew out and guided Axel to sit upon. He looked at the bench, every inch of it crowded with papers, books, diaries containing indecipherable text, mortar and pestles of various size, endless squares of coloured paper, and a collection of jars containing different powders.

"So, this is where the magic happens." Axel didn't get any further before Aerith stuck a tongue depressor into his mouth and instructed, "Say 'aah'."

"Really?" he garbled out past the piece of wood.

"Really," she confirmed, fixing him with a look that forbade further argument.

After a beat, Axel gave in. "Aah?"

She flashed a penlight down his throat, and inspected the inside of his mouth closely. "…Very well," she relented, finally satisfied, and dropped the depressor into a small composting bin on the dirt. Before Axel could relax, however, she grabbed his face, pulling his eyelids apart one by one to flash the light back and forth across his pupils. "All right," she murmured, before moving on to his lymph nodes.

Growing impatient, he batted her hands away. "Come on, Aerith, I haven't got a cold," he complained.

"Oh, really? Well, I'll make a note that you don't appear to be experiencing any symptoms, then," she answered evenly, opening a drawer and pulling out a goddamn portable blood pressure machine.

"Why do you have that?" Axel demanded, in wonder.

"Why do I have any medical equipment, Axel?" she patiently replied, before wrapping the sleeve around his arm and starting to pump it manually.

"…I don't know," he answered, honestly. "Why do you?"

Glancing at him, hooking a stethoscope into her ears as the sleeve reached maximum tightness. Pressing the end to his wrist, she listened to his heart rate with a serious expression. After a minute had passed, she announced, "Your blood pressure is elevated. Unsurprising, given recent events." Then, she said, "I studied nursing after the event in Midgar. Our awakening," she explained, when Axel didn't understand. "Sephiroth's first attack on Cloud." She was looking at a memory only she could see, troubled even after all these years. "Before that, I grew and sold flowers, from the very same church that was in my sanctuary." She trailed off, wistful now. That's right; Axel remembered that the ruins that Roxas had painstakingly moved into Ansem's tower were still back there, and it wouldn't be safe to return any time soon. Not for something that was essentially an aesthetic choice. "Do you and Roxas still have your flower?" Aerith asked him, out of the blue.

"Our… flower?" Axel was confused, until he distantly recalled the red flower that she had presented them during his visit in her first forest. "Oh! Uh, I'm not sure. Sorry," he awkwardly answered. "Roxas probably knows, though," he offered, as her expression fell slightly. "A lot… happened."

With a sigh, she conceded this with a nod. "A lot certainly has happened." She fixed him with a long, steady look. "Especially to you. We consider this a lot for us, and we've been doing this silly god business for a while."

Axel couldn't help but chuckle. He bet Aerith and Sora got along well. 'Silly god business' was just flowery language for 'god shit' at the end of the day. He stopped when Aerith stared at him, and cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"…I don't see what's so funny," she commented, disapprovingly, "but hold still and take a few deep breaths for me." She then lifted the back of his shirt and planted the chilly stethoscope against his bare skin, making him yelp slightly. "Oh, hush. Such a baby." He did as he was told, and gave Aerith a sample of what his lungs sounded like.

As she drew away, he jokingly asked, "Well, doctor? How long have I got?"

She didn't laugh. Instead, she placed the stethoscope back into its drawer, and folded her arms thoughtfully. "Axel," she said, after a pause, "like it or not, for whatever reasons were out of our control, I find myself feeling… responsible for you. For your wellbeing." As he went to open his mouth, she headed off his question. "It doesn't matter why. What matters is – what's happening to you right now, it's up to me to make it right." Her gaze was piercing. "I can see that you're struggling. I know… that it's falling apart." Her voice was soft, Axel completely mystified, but… listening, regardless. A part of him was listening closely. "I will do everything in my power to correct this wrong, but I'm afraid."

Eyebrows shooting up, Axel repeated, "Afraid? Of me?"

Aerith however, shook her head. "Not of. For."

Axel really, really tried to make sense of it, but… "Aerith, I'm sorry, but I just don't understand what you're talking about."

She lay a hand along the side of his face and smiled painfully. "I know, dear." She sighed, attempting to brush down his frizzing hair as it air-dried. "I know." She sniffed slightly, turned to her workbench, and started uncapping bottles and jars, using pinches and occasional dashes in creating a combination on an open square of white paper. "This," she said, sounding like she was fighting the urge to cry, "will help you sleep. Your sleep is poor of late, I'm assuming?"

Regarding her warily, unsure of where the tears were coming from, Axel answered, "Uh, yeah, actually. How'd you know, Aerith?"

"Oh, young men in stressful situations often find themselves losing sleep." She lightly brushed off the inquiry. "And you're often up quite early. Habit, I assume? You didn't seem overly tired until recently."

"Well, yeah," he replied. "It's from my old job. I had an early start. It's hard to kick."

"You were a – courier, yes?" She smiled briefly. "And quite the musician, I've heard."

Axel scowled. "Not lately."

"Why?"

Starting to feel uncomfortable, he replied evasively, "It's just not really been on my mind."

"Why not?"

Glaring now, getting tired of her matter-of-fact barrage, he asked back, "Why does it matter?"

"Because the music is part of who you are," Aerith immediately argued. "Why haven't you played lately, Axel?"

"I didn't even have -!"

"You could have asked Roxas to get you a new one," she interrupted his excuse.

"I like my –"

"You don't care about which violin it is," Aerith scoffed. She had him feeling – backed up, boxed in somehow. "And anyway, you have it back now."

"Yeah, but it's not like that was that!" he said hotly, getting annoyed. "We did also then go on to almost immediately perform the rescue mission for Naminé. Which was just last night, and which I helped resolve, by the way, you're welcome."

"By giving Tifa second-degree burns and searing the skin under Roxas's metal accessories." When Axel abruptly stopped talking, Aerith went on, "But hey, that wasn't you, was it? That was Lea."

Shrinking into himself, Axel demanded, "You think I wanted that? Goddamn it, why are you antagonising me?"

"Because I want to know where he ends," she replied, frustrated, "and where you begin. Why haven't you played the violin in so long?" Axel pressed his lips together. "Roxas said you loved it. Loved every note you ever played, and you never missed a single opportunity to practice."

"So I've fallen out of practice!" he snapped. "Can you blame me?"

"No." She met his eyes firmly. "I don't blame you at all. Everything has gone crazy in your world, Axel."

"I know that," he told her, baffled. "Why are you telling me that?"

She searched his eyes, then sighed. "…You know, I don't even know. I think…" She started folding the edges of the paper over and inwards, deft motions that had been practiced a thousand times before. "I think I'm looking for a target for my blame? Because I don't really blame myself… but the one to blame is out of reach for now."

"Aerith, please, for the love of any and every god, make some sense for me," Axel pleaded.

She finished her creation, taking hold of one of his long hands and tucking it into his palm. "Sprinkle just a small pinch of this into warm water before bedtime, and drink once it's mixed. It will help you dream kinder dreams."

"Kinder dreams…?" Axel stared at the little parcel, uncomprehending, but nonetheless closed his fingers over it. "Well – thanks, I guess."

Into his other hand, she folded a smaller, pre-prepared yellow packet. "Now this, you take once you get back upstairs, hear me? This will help with your energy levels today." He nodded uncertainly, Aerith warning, "Be sure to actually take it! No faking. I'll know right away if you're faking."

"What is it, arsenic?" Axel held it up and sniffed it cautiously. "You trying to collect on some life insurance scheme I don't know about?"

"It is a gift," she answered, "from me to you."

A gift, huh? Another one. These gods sure were starting to like giving him stuff. But, knowing Aerith, that was the whole point, wasn't it? To make him think of his other 'gift'?

Seeing the penny drop, she smiled slightly, realising she'd been caught. "There are some things I can't do, and there are some things I can. Helping you with this… Lea hiccup… is one of those things."

"A hiccup," Axel sourly echoed.

"Play your violin, Axel. Take your medicine, and sleep well." She gave him a second gift, unexpectedly gracing him with a chaste peck on the forehead. "Do these things, and the planet will protect you." She then pulled away, beaming. "How was that? Did you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Axel doubtfully asked.

"Aw!" She looked disappointed. "It was a blessing. I presented you with a blessing of the life goddess." She wiped a bit of lipstick off his head. "It will… help," she explained, explaining absolutely nothing. Axel was pretty much exactly as in the dark as he had been when he'd taken his first step into the basement. Nevertheless played along for the sake of politeness.

"Thank you?" he attempted, Aerith pouting slightly at the obligatory nature of the gratitude.

"You will be thankful," she told him, kind of like she was trying to threaten him, except that nothing about that was intimidating.

"Yeah. I – I really, really am." He forced a smile, and a thumbs up, nearly dropping the little yellow package. Aerith sighed loudly.

"Really?"

Having caught it at the last moment, he sent her a crooked grin. "Really."

She rolled her eyes at having her earlier words parroted back. "Well, if you promise to take your medicine, I haven't got any more use for you. Shoo, shoo. I have work to do." She made a show of dismissing him, her work done, but Axel saw the small smile she wore. "And don't push yourself too hard!" the woman called out, after he had walked away a reasonable distance. "Nothing too high-activity, understand?"

Axel scratched his head, then held his thumb up in the air to indicate he had heard and comprehended. He was glad that he had the smaller lantern, so that hopefully Aerith couldn't see the blush blazing across his face.

Of course, for there to be any risk of 'high-activity', he had to be actually speaking with Roxas. He pulled his heavy body up the stairs, emerging back onto the ground floor feeling like he was leaving a cave behind. The light of day was almost blinding, Axel turning off the lantern, and hanging it back on its hook beside the door. Feeling a little like he was moving through a dream, he drifted back towards the kitchen, where, ignoring everybody else, he took a cup from the cabinet and filled it with water. He looked down at the small packages on his palms. The yellow one. The yellow one for energy, the white one for sleep.

Aerith had said the yellow was just for today, so he emptied the entire sachet, stirred it with a finger, then threw his head back and chugged the lot. Almost at once he noticed that he was feeling – clearer-headed. More like himself. He didn't notice Roxas frown from the other side of the kitchen, or Vincent's beady gaze burrowing into him from his perch at the counter.

But he definitely felt… better.