CALLING: ROXAS

Okay.


[ He figures... that's all he's supposed to say and just goes to the training rooms. He stares at the floor the entire way there. ]

[ D'Artagnan will be waiting for him. He's found a free room, and there's various weapons laid out - all sword-based, but blunted, for training. He doesn't look stern or angry, but he does look serious.

Taking in Roxas' expression, he holds the door to the room open. ]

Come in. We need to talk.

Or, actually, you talk. Tell me what happened.

[ He figures he doesn't need to say what he means. ]

[ The fury he had felt when he had heard Ansem's voice is long time. The bewildering tears and feeling of helplessness have left him downtrodden and muted. Not the eager boy who had told D'artagnan how much he wanted his heart to grow stronger. ]

The last time I tried to hit him... I was trapped inside a computer He trapped me there, and when he showed up he was just a projection and I couldn't hit him. So when I realized he was really here all I wanted to do was punch him in the face.

[ He doesn't sound particularly pleased with himself though. ]

[ D'Artagnan shuts the door behind him. He doesn't want to make this worse, doesn't want to upset someone who's clearly already upset. Because that won't help anyone.

But he well knows that the rage won't either, if it comes back at the wrong time. ]

What did he do in the first place, to make you want to hit him?

[ His mouth thins. Garrus had asked him if he had been provoked, and he hadn't been. Ansem hadn't even noticed him until Roxas had turned to confront him. ]

I hate him.

[ D'Artagnan folds his arms, tucking his hands in against his chest. His face stays clear. ]

Why?

He kidnapped me, he erased my memories... He hurt my friends.

[ There's something about the memories especially which stings at him. He had gotten them back eventually, but not before he had destroyed his relationship with Axel. The last of his friends still living. ]

He did it to make sure I wouldn't exist anymore. Because someone else was more important.

[ The feeling of helplessness is cloying. His frustration and betrayal trying to sink him. ]

[ D’Artagnan hadn’t expected it to be anything good. This is far more than he could have guessed. For a moment he just stares at Roxas.

He cannot possibly tell him that it was wrong to react to something like that. Anyone would have. He would have, he knows he would. So he nods, and then turns, lifting two blunted swords. ]

Then he deserved it. He deserved what you did to him and more. Don’t think that I don’t believe that.

[ A breath, and then he looks at Roxas. ]

You can’t think with your heart instead of your head. If you hurt him here, you’ll be the one to suffer for it. You or your friends. The man who hurt you like that is not worth that. I’ve been where you are, Roxas. You have to think with your head.

[ He holds out one of the swords. ]

So get it out. All of the anger. Don’t hit him, hit me. That’s why we’re here.

[ Roxas's eyes go wide, a moment of hesitation. There's an instinctual reaction that it's not D'artagnan he bears so much ill will towards. But... After a moment he reaches out like a sleepwalker to take the other sword.

His memories swirl back to a fake sword in a fake world, roiling over the thoughts of the lovely lies that Ansem had woven for him. There is no part of him that thinks any of it was done out of kindness, it was all an insult to offer him merely a few days of normalcy and existence and then to rip it away.

He hadn't wanted to fight Axel either, but by then the betrayal was too raw and his friend had stopped listening, both of their malformed hearts weeping over a girl they had both tried to save and neither could remember.

He closes his eyes tightly for a moment, gripping the hilt of the sword in his hand until his knuckles go white, and then he back up a few steps. He normally fights dual wield, but when he only has one he takes a stance with both hands curled around the weapon.

He has been taught a little better than this by his PKN7 training, but now isn't the time for technique. ]

Ok.

[ D'Artagnan nods, and a smile briefly flashes across his face.

He doesn't ultimately know if this will help. All he knows is that when he feels vengeful, when his temper is close to getting the better of him, that this can help him focus. That Athos has used training as a way of making him control his impulses, even when the fight is deeply personal.

So he'll try it. Maybe it will help.

He gets into position, and turns the sword in his hand until he's holding a low guard. He paces out into the room, giving them more space. He'll let Roxas make the first move. ]

[ It will help, in the end. Roxas has a heart overflowing with feelings he cannot fully articulate, and he has always responded to that with anger; lashing out. Always, it was the path of least resistance, the easiest way to let loose what boiled inside of him. He has gained some emotional literacy in his time in the CDC, knows far more now than the fairy tale wisdoms he had acquired in brief term of existence.

But it's a relief not to think about it right now. He's done so much thinking and worrying and questioning. He feels miserable with himself, with his past, with his future. He's terrified to disappoint everyone, especially those who need him most.

He's not being asked to impress right now though. He's just being asked to let go.

For his small size, he is quite ferocious when his temper gets the better of him and he unleashes it. He's quick and he's strong but he is not thinking about defense and is easy to stun with a little bit observation. It doesn't keep him down for long, and with his thoughts swirling around him -- so many regrets and wishes and betrayals -- he eventually reaches a crescendo where he might just tumble too far into his anger.

But he doesn't. The clash of toy swords looses his from his grip, and he sits down, panting heavily.

He feels better, in a way, although he finds it entirely baffling that there are still tears on his face.

He doesn't know if he should be ashamed of himself or not. He's cried more in the past few days than he has in his entire life. He wipes at them in childish confusion. ]

Having a heart is way harder than I thought.

[ D'Artagnan doesn't try to hold him back, or control him in any way. He also doesn't really attack, unless Roxas ever seems like he's backing off, and then he brings them back into it. Mostly he defends, and and gives Roxas something to hit. Something to take the anger out on, a way of getting it out of his system.

By the end of it he's breathing hard, a sweat has broken out over his neck and his hair is shoved back away from his face.

Despite that, he feels good. Training does that to him. When Roxas finally stops, and drops to the floor, and tosses his sword back onto the table he'd lifted it from, and comes over to sit beside him. He pulls his knees up to lean his arms on them, and he nods. He doesn't say anything about the tears. He'd rather they were falling than being held in. ]

I know.

[ He shrugs and then smiles, just a little. ]

It's normal, though. Being angry and upset. You don't have to not feel them. You just can't let them rule you. There's probably nothing I'm worse at than that, honestly.

[ Roxas nods along, listening to what's being said to him. He remains quiet for a moment after D'artagnan finishes however, letting his tears taper off and his breathing go a bit more even. It does actually make him feel a bit comforted to hear that D'artagnan has trouble keeping his feelings in their proper place sometimes too. Feels a little less stupid and like he's really made some kind of utterly unforgivable mistake. ]

I talk to people a lot... about how to take good care of my heart. [ This stupid earnest boy can't help but put his hand on his chest, like he's cradling something incredibly precious and utterly priceless beneath the palm of his hand. ] They say things that make sense, but it's hard to figure out where it all fits when something really happens.

I'm really worried I'm going to make a big mistake.

[ He sighs, head falling back to look up at the ceiling for a moment. ]

I've always ended up making really big mistakes, and the people around me end up hurt.

[ D'Artagnan listens to Roxas talk, while the muscles in his face relax with sympathy. He knows exactly what the boy's talking about. In the end, he reaches to put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes it. ]

Listen. There's not a man alive who doesn't fear for that. Everyone makes mistakes. Your heart will make you do stupid, ridiculous things, and you'll regret them all after and swear it'll never happen again.

Hearts break too easily. That's the problem with them, but you're still better with one than without. You just have to use your head, too. It doesn't mean you'll never get hurt or you'll never hurt someone else, but maybe it'll help you take the right risks, at the right time.

If you're ever unsure, then talk to someone about it. You can come to me any time. I know Garrus would say the same. We'll be here for you, we're your team. We're not going to leave you alone.

[ It has been a very long time since anyone has said something like that to him. It takes him back to the special place on top of the clock tower, where he had brought all of his troubles to Axel and his friend had done his best to guide him through questions no one ever expected him to experience first hand.

It makes him feel good, comforted assuredly, but the sadness will not leave his thoughts.

He smiles wanly, exhausted with all the trouble he's caused. ]

Thanks. I'll... do better, next time.

[ Because having a team and not being alone is incredibly important. ]

[ D'Artagnan nods at that, and gives him a smile that he hopes is comforting. He doesn't expect this to fix everything for Roxas. He just hopes that it helps, in as much as it can. ]

I know you will.

What's done is done. Don't worry about it. Next time, you'll have us to face it with you.