[Fic] Axel/Roxas -- to burn a hole in the sky (you have to start somewhere); 1/2
Title: to burn a hole in the sky (you have to start somewhere); 1/2
Series: Kingdom Hearts/Doctor Who
Pairing/Characters: Axel/Roxas, The Doctor
Rating: PG-13
Total length: 13,781 words
Warnings: Massive crossovers and too much world hopping. The Doctor Who timeline is a scary place. (Stupid paradoxes)
Summary: Nothing is whole - and nothing is broken; a love song to waltz through time.
Authors Note: I am going to pull a tierfal here, and apologize for the excessively long authors note.
1) For those of you who don't know, this fic is a sequel to Chance a Glance at the Stars, a Doctor Who/Kingdom Hearts fic that I wrote a little while ago. Considering that this won't make much sense if you haven't read that one, go ahead and do so. Don't worry though- that one is about 10,000 words shorter than this one.
2) I recently found this really awesome TARDIS map post of awesome, so go visit that. I obviously couldn’t really do it justice, but the first few floors are based on it.
3) Rae, I love you. I am so sorry that I took so long with this, but I sincerely hope that the wait was actually worth it.
4) Chances are I am going to wind up writing more in this universe. After all, I still owe tierfal some crack fic about kittens. So. There's that.
5) I love all of you- every single person who listened to me bitch and cheered me on. Seriously. Even though this is mild on the fic scale of hugeness, it’s the longest fic that I have ever written. And it kind of killed me. Just a little.
6) neffectual, I may have used part of your end note for my summary. I'm sorry. It struck a chord. Hopefully you don't mind?
7) And if you're curious, I've made a playlist of the songs I listened to while writing this.
Beta shout-outs: I would not have been able to post this without the help of the following lovely ladies: calciseptine, faorism, darthvair_65, neffectual, and as always, my light when all other lights go dark, rudy_flamthrowa. You were all amazing, and seriously, thank you so much for holding my hand through all of this.
When the Doctor was younger, a friend once told him that some things will always be impossible. Some things are in flux, ever changing, while others stay set in stone. He’d given examples, as well; how the Doctor would never manage to get higher marks than him or how the Doctor would never quite manage to scale the ranks of the Academy high enough to get a ship of his own.
He’d promised though, that when he got his own ship, the Doctor could be a member of his crew. That he wouldn’t let the Academy talk him out of it. That he knew the Doctor was meant for more than his sub par marks would allow.
He was right, of course. At least as far as the Doctor being meant for more was concerned. They never really got around to the other things, unfortunately. The Doctor ran-- stole a ship while he was at it-- and showed his friend that he would never let himself be set in stone.
The fact that the man in question had grown into a homicidal mass murderer is neither here nor there.
Now, with Roxas poking half-heartedly at the consoles as he watches Sora guide his gummi ship away from the TARDIS, the Doctor wonders what he’d think of this endeavor. This mad, impossible thing that he’d suggested before he had the chance to think about it. Before he could think of the possibility of heartbreak, and the endless paradoxes that could enfold from this simple thing. He wonders- what would he think? Would he laugh at the Doctor for his foolish sentimentality, chide him for catching a case of humanity, and classify this as an impossibility? Or would he get that soft look he used to, and say, “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” and take the Doctor with him to set the stars straight?
He supposes he’ll never know.
(He thinks the Master-- his Master, back when they were just Koschei and Theta with the whole of the universe stretching before them- would have liked Roxas. He always did have a thing for blonds.)
Roxas is still staring at Sora’s ship through the TARDIS’ open door with a bit of a heartsick expression, like he’s not sure whether he should be feeling sad or excited. The Doctor thinks it’s incredibly interesting that this slip of a boy can ignore the swirls and dancing flames of nearby Betelgeuse to focus on the fading blocks of a ship he’s seen dozens of times.
He’s poking at the tea tray now, stirring Sora’s barely touched tea -long gone cold- with half a biscuit while the other hand taps an unknown beat onto the back of his seat. He’s fidgety, like he’s got too much energy built up under his skin and doesn’t quite know what to do with it- but beneath that there’s a steady calm reminiscent of a warrior.
He might be mad for doing this, and he is- just a mad man with a box who hates the sound of children crying, but as things often go in his world, events line up. A cheeky brunette with a wide smile and a ridiculous space ship found him time and time again- ran into him through all of time and space, until their ships decided that they should meet. And this boy had another boy trapped inside his brain, hiding amongst the wrinkly folds of the cerebellum and the hippocampus, a boy who didn’t quite fit. And it wasn’t chance that just that last week the Doctor had obtained a machine that would work perfectly for this type of thing. That when he looked at that boy who didn’t quite fit, he realized that he could help him.
After all, everything happens for a reason.
So maybe he isn’t all that mad for taking on such a ludicrous task. Maybe Roxas has a hope. Maybe things won’t be tragic this time around.
But none of that matters.
This isn’t his story to tell.
.
Finding Axel, as it turns out, is not as easy as it seems. See, the Doctor has this nasty habit of getting distracted, and more often than not they don't quite end up at their intended destination. It’s not just the fact that he’s a terrible navigator, though by now it’s abundantly clear to Roxas that this is also the case. But the Doctor never really travels in a straight line. He weaves in and out of time, the TARDIS clattering around the time vortex like a semi with a trashed driver. He never really makes it exactly when and where he wants. It’s always, “Oh yes, whoops, you wanted 2010 AD, didn’t you? Well, BC’s just as nice, and while we’re here...”
It’s as endearing as it is frustrating, though Roxas does enjoy the candies they procure from the various worlds that happen to get in their way.
They pass through dozens of worlds, moons, and space colonies that against all odds float between a trio of star clusters. They meander back and forth though time, skip into the 82nd century on a moon called Aepil XVI, engage with villains and heroes, and borrow a hat from someone called Abraham Lincoln. It's all extraordinarily interesting, and there's a great deal of running involved that makes Roxas wish he'd spent the last few years exercising rather than reclining on an easy chair somewhere behind Sora's eyelids. The fact of the matter, though, is that they haven't even started looking for Axel yet.
So, on the twenty-seventh time that they step out of the TARDIS, (which is only the sixteenth time they’ve landed on solid ground) and the Doctor shoves a hand through his tawny hair, saying, "Well, this isn't quite right," Roxas tries to convince the old timer to teach him how to drive. Only the Doctor seems to remember that Roxas punctuated his request by lashing out with a golden pepper grinder from the navigation plate, but after a bit more convincing in the forms of bruises and pathetic eyes, he attempts to pass along his skipper’s knowledge of the blue box.
When that fails, as things with the Doctor are wont to do, he manages to convince the TARDIS to show him. This isn't exactly the easiest thing to do either. In fact, it was probably extremely unwise of him to plunge headlong into the mesomorphic folds of wiring beneath the ship’s bronze exterior paneling in the hopes that asking her core would get a more positive answer. He’d never really considered that the TARDIS, while a time machine, was also a lady, and ladies didn’t particularly like it when you flicked up their skirts. After much groveling (and several weeks of getting shocked every time he touches a horizontal surface) she seems to forgive him, teaching him through a series of affirmative hums (and many shrill negative shrieks) and one game of hot and cold that the TARDIS takes far too seriously. Eventually, after a long, exhausting struggle and more than a few weeks bumping around the Time Vortex, she manages to beat it into him.
After an ill advised practice run to ancient Rome, Roxas nurses a few blistered fingers and, according to the Doctor, is “lucky to have an upper torso,” but he’s finally a hundred percent sure that he really gets it this time time.
It’s times like this that Roxas mourns the fact that the TARDIS doesn’t have windows. He thinks that it would make the whole traveling in time and space thing a bit more interesting-- watching the stars pass them by. The Doctor tells him that she had some once, but after a bit of a mishap with a baseball being tossed around (which wasn’t his fault, of course) she just stopped producing them. Roxas doesn’t really blame her.
So he props the TARDIS doors open with a wayward shoe while the Doctor sulks bitterly in the corner like a wronged cat and watches the Clock Tower swell against the tangerine sky. It looms over the rest of Twilight Town, larger than he remembers, and looking at it, he can almost taste the sea salt in the back of his throat. There’s the tram, loud on it’s rickety track- and the place where Hayner taught him how to skateboard. The Secret Place, with it’s heaps of junk and treasures, like they were playing Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, never wanting to grow up- carving out a place of their own.
There is the place that Axel came for him, and the place where Axel had grinned when he thought Roxas remembered who he was.
There are tunnels and an old mansion, train tracks where a mouse king had walked. Hundreds of memories, real and fake, clawing their way through his head. Olette helping him with his french homework, Pence nattering on about that trip to the beach that he’d taken with his family. Hayner grinning at him, and helping him beat Seifer into the ground.
There’s a patch of ground down there where Roxas had first met Axel.
A specific seat he’d taken on the Clock Tower when they’d watched their first sunset.
The place where he’d asked Axel if nobodies could love.
(The place where Axel had looked at him, shoulders tense and jaw clenched, and said, “You need a heart, man.”)
There’s Xion and Hayner and Larxene and Pence and Hayner and all the other Nobodies, and always, always Axel. Everything will always come back to him. Roxas will always come back to him, because Axel isn’t the only one who felt like he had a heart. It feels like there’s something clawing up his throat, a lump that screams I’mscaredIwantIloveImissIcherish all at once.
It feels like hope, and it hurts.
.
Though, nothing is ever perfect right away.
Just because Roxas got them there doesn't necessarily mean he'd found the right doorway. It’s like he’s new to his body again- meandering around Castle Oblivion without a clue as to what he was doing, who he was.
They'd jumped back too far, the Doctor says, and it won't work. “Paradoxes, you see. Never interfere with your own timeline,” he sighs, sipping tea out of an old and battered taffy tin that is supposedly from a planet whose tourism relies completely on its confectionery industry.
“It can get rather nasty,” he adds quietly, watching the two silhouettes atop the tower.
They can't take him now, he says, because it would change too many things.
Somewhere out there, there’s a specific point in time, a specific place that shouldn’t exist. A passageway, betwixt and between, that is full of Dusks and a terrified keyblade master who thinks he’s about to die. Roxas remembers that. How Sora’s heart was too loud-- how the keyblade had quivered in his hand as he'd watched the Dusks come, relentless and unstoppable. How Sora had heaved a frustrated sigh, and thought, "well, that's it then."
Mostly though, he recalls the way that he had felt when Sora saw Axel, and how hope had flooded their chest. Without Axel, they would have died there. The Dusks would have overtaken them, ripped them apart and gotten to the gore. There would be no fading softly into darkness for Sora- he would die, and it would be messy; crushed by nothings in a place that didn’t exist. It would be like they’d never existed at all.
“Yeah. Okay. Maybe you have a point there,” he concedes, watching himself smile and take a bar of ice cream from Axel. It would be so easy though, so simple to walk up to Axel and that broken part of himself and take Axel away.
The Doctor watches too, a crease between his brows and something fragile lurking in those ancient eyes. Roxas wonders how many times he has watched someone he loved mere seconds out of his reach, and thought that he could save them. How many times he must have reminded himself about paradoxes, and how many times he’s been tempted to brave the dangers of working with his own timeline.
He wants to haul Axel away from everything Roxas is about to say and do that hurts him. Instead, he yanks the Doctor away by his tie, backs them into the TARDIS and frowns down at the controls, squinting at the coordinates scrolling across the screen. She hums beneath him, a low, sad purr that he thinks might be her way of comforting them.
He does not look at the Doctor.
The Doctor sidles up next to him and nudges an elbow into his side, bumps their hips together playfully. "Cheer up, Roxy-boy. Let's try again."
.
The second time isn't much better than the first. Sora's talking to Axel and Axel-- he looks wrecked, his hair drooping pathetically, bruises smeared beneath his eyes. He's waving a hand, rolling his eyes, using all the right motions- like a marionette getting its strings tugged- but Roxas can tell. He hurts.
They leave. Still not right.
.
Axel isn't even there the third time.
(When Saix glowers at Sora and says, "Axel would stop at nothing to turn you into a heartless," something inside him aches.)
.
Roxas remembers this place; betwixt and between they’d called it. He remembers the sky blues, the emerald greens, and the burnt tangerine creeping along what passed for walls. It still smells like darkness, and he can’t help but recall feeling completely helpless, trapped inside of Sora's heart as the Dusks swarmed around them.
He remembers what came after.
This isn't the best place to yank him out of his timeline, he knows that. It’s risky, impossible to predict whether or not they can even affect the outcome of the battle. What if the Dusks still overrun them? What if Axel’s sacrifice was the only way this could possibly end? For the first time he wonders if maybe they should have jumped even further back, if they should have grabbed Lea before he died- but that paradox- that paradox is definitely too dangerous to even consider.
Sora's eyes widen when he sees Roxas, stumbling with his keyblade still buried to the hilt inside a dusk. The dusk disappears, flakes of dust settling around Sora's knuckles and wrists like snow. He doesn't know yet about the Roxas inside of him, just knows the name and the face. Roxas hopes that he’s not knocking over too many dominoes here. Ripping a brand new alternate universe into the fabric of time and space isn’t what he’d been aiming for.
The Doctor is behind him, rocking on his heels at the edge of Roxas' vision, fingers twisting anxiously in his pockets. He looks nervous-- like he wants to run.
No running this time.
Axel--- well, Axel can’t stop looking at him. He stops where he is, flames smoldering around the edges of his chakrams, and just stares-- mouth parted, glancing back and forth between Sora and Roxas with a crease between his brow. He looks so confused that Roxas can't help laughing. There's something light and happy curling up in his chest, and he can't begin to describe the feeling of really seeing Axel again, of knowing with complete clarity that this is it- this time I save him.
"Axel," he breathes.
"Roxas," Axel acknowledges quietly, as though he's afraid the word will make him vanish. Then, "But Sora-"
Roxas shakes his head and grins. It's not Sora's grin. Not the memory of a smile. It's Roxas' and well, that's kind of a huge deal, feeling his own smile-- having Axel there to cause it.
Oathkeeper feels good in his hand, and for a moment he wonders if maybe he shouldn't reach, shouldn't grasp for that bit of Xion that got carried over, but when Bond of Flame appears in his other hand, he thinks that maybe she wanted him to have it.
"I'll tell you later."
.
They let Sora go, making a portal for him to the World that Never Was, because although he still seems puzzled, he has things he needs to do.
Sora leaves with a frown and a faint goodbye, waving halfheartedly while Goofy leans close and whispers loudly, “Gawrsh, Sora. That was nice o’ them ta help out.”
They disappear, and Roxas is left only with the Doctor, Axel, and a time machine that seems a little too nervous about parking where there shouldn't’t be solid ground.
The Doctor seems a bit apprehensive, peering at the shadows as if he's expecting one of the aliens he's told Roxas about to pop up and try to end the universe, but already Roxas can feel the new memories slotting into place over the old ones. The memory of watching through Sora's eyes as Axel faded away isn't gone- he thinks that it will never be gone, but it's hazier, replaced with the memory of watching himself and Axel silhouetted in front of the TARDIS as the portal closed behind Sora.
Axel still looks confused, like despite fighting off Dusks alongside Sora and Roxas, he's still not entirely sure it's all real.
He ushers Axel into the TARDIS with an amused smile and a gentle hand to the small of his back. He has some explaining to do.
.
It isn't until later, when Axel's reclining back against the controls, his coat hanging in shredded tatters around his calves that they realize they have a problem.
Muscle memory had taken over the moment they'd stepped into the TARDIS, and Roxas is half busying himself with tea (Eiryen fire water, spicy with just a hint of chai) when he hears the Doctor groan from the other room. Axel makes an inquisitive sound, something soft in the back of his throat that makes Roxas think of the time he and Xion had tried to explain the rules of Scrabble when they didn't quite understand it themselves.
The Doctor coughs, and Roxas is just rounding the corner, when he says, "Well, this won't do."
Axel is frowning, back rigid. "What?"
The Doctor sighs, and scratches at his temple with the sonic screwdriver, face twisted into a mask of frustration. He starts fiddling with the TARDIS's controls, muttering to himself as he goes. "Why do you two have to be so complicated," he whines. Axel sputters a bit, and glances towards Roxas, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. He clenches his hands into his coat though, and grumbles a bit, growling, “I’ll show you complicated...” before he starts plucking at the gadgets nearby.
Roxas takes a moment to let the surge of affection consume him, because here is Axel- his Axel, right here in front of him and grumbling as if they’d run out of ice cream on a hot summer day. He smiles and looks away from Axel, because he doesn’t know how long he can hold out before he makes a grab for his coattail, attempts a hug, or, if very desperate, just crawls into his lap. He raises his brows at the Doctorand sets the tea a safe distance away from the Doctor. He'd learned quickly that hot liquids in close proximity to a harried Doctor was not a particularly clever combination.
"What is it?" he asks softly, and Axel turns to look at him when the Doctor doesn't, his forehead wrinkled with frown lines. He wants to touch him. Has to touch him, because he has to see if he’s real-- he has to.
He’s just starting to reach for Axel’s hand when the Doctor finally stops tinkering with the controls and turns part way towards them, canting his hip against the control panel and grimacing at him. "There's something we didn't quite factor into our plans, Roxas."
Roxas scowls, ignoring the way Axel is suddenly frowning and saying in a sharp voice, “what plans, Roxas?” because that means there's something wrong with Axel. "What?" he hisses, too demanding- ungrateful, but he's worried and the Doctor just looks at him, slow and meaningful, dragging a hand over to press against Axel's chest (“What? What? Dude, get off of me-”) and what does he-
Oh.
Oh.
How could they have been so stupid? Forgetting one of the most important parts, like putting Humpty Dumpty back together again and forgetting the yolk. Fuck.
He licks suddenly dry lips-- doesn't let himself look at Axel. "What do we do?"
The Doctor smiles at him, sudden and bright, like he’s trying to make this whole mess into less of a big deal- as if he’s trying to reassure them. He pats Axel's shoulder and his smile broadens into a grin at Axel's look of outrage. "Well, first, I guess we need to find you a heart."
.
It's not that simple.
.
It's really not.
.
But that will come later.
.
They start out towards a planet that the Doctor thinks might be able to help them. He says it’ll take them a bit to reach it- a few days, maybe, and that they might want a chance to catch up anyway.
They explain things, first, because when the Doctor tries to leave the telling to just Roxas, he panics and latches onto the Doctor’s shirtsleeves, all but begging for help.
It’s not that he thinks Axel won’t believe him, it’s that he doesn’t know where to start.
So they explained about collisions between space ships and Roxas' body and Sora's soul and the machine that let it happen, the machine that let Roxas live.
Axel’s always been an expressive person for someone that doesn’t have a heart. He’s all hands, talking with them-- waving them about like he’s made it his life mission to elbow someone in the eye. But Axel when he’s silent-- Roxas thinks that that is when he’s most expressive of all. He’s quiet, and relatively still, but it’s the play of emotion in his eyes- the way that his body twitches when the Doctor tells him about a time that Roxas had nearly gotten himself killed trying to get back to him, the way that his shoulders loosen whenever they mention something that all but screams, this is how much Roxas loves you.
When Axel asks about the machine, and how something had transferred an entire consciousness into a brand new body, the Doctor explains it to him. The data banks stored in the center of a man-made planet with every possible design, every possible species. He grins widely and elbows Axel in the side, telling him with a faintly conspiratorial look, "I told him to go for the wings, but he seemed to think he was above them."
Axel had grinned a bit, playing up his reaction and stood up from his chair- hand to his heart and intoned, perfectly deadpan, "Roxas, how could you? Wings, Roxy, big flappy wings with feathers and stuff."
And after, the Doctor leaves with some excuse about playing with the TARDIS’ circuitry and maybe having a bath (Roxas personally hopes he doesn’t mean at the same time, but with the Doctor, you never really know), leaving them alone in the control room with just the echoes of time outside to mask the silence.
“So,” Axel says, drifting a bit closer to him.
“So...” Roxas says, because now that the impossible has finally been achieved, now that he actually has Axel, he’s not entirely sure what to do with him.
The controls are dim now that the Doctor has left, as if the TARDIS herself is trying to tell Roxas to do something already. The faint teal glow lights up the left side of Axel’s face, shadows playing across them in a way that would almost look eerie if Roxas didn’t know that the way his hands were twitching meant he was at a loss for words and was just a little put out about it.
“So,” Axel starts again, and he smooths his twitching hands down the side of his coat, like he’s brushing away lint. “I guess you missed me?”
Oh right, touching. That’s probably where he should start.
He can count on one hand how many times he’s actually hugged Axel. It’s always been a careful arm around his shoulder, or an affectionate swat to Axel’s hair. A hand around his waist, fingertips digging into his hips the one time Axel had tugged him closer on the Clock Tower, so they were pressed together from shoulders to hips. A touch to his wrist and a hesitant touch to Axel’s cheek, once, and only because he was hurt.
But he hugs Axel now, because that need to see if he’s real is back full force, making the pit of his stomach sour until he gets an arm on solid flesh. Axel’s taller than him, and for a minute, he’s not entirely sure where to set his hands. Hips may be too intimate, but he’d need to go up on the tips of his toes to get his arms around Axel’s shoulders. He settles for wrapping his arms around Axel’s waist, resting both hands against the small of his back, and pressing his face into the worn leather covering Axel’s chest.
He smells like sweat and fire, that charcoal scent that Roxas used to get caught in the back of his throat for days while Axel was away. It makes his chest hurt, and the smell takes him back to days where they lounged around on Roxas’ bed-- days they spent exploring Agrabah and Atlantica and only pretending that they were there on business.
Axel makes a noise in the back of his throat when Roxas touches him, not quite a gasp and not quite a shudder-- just a little intake of air that makes Roxas shake with emotion. He breathes in and that lump is still in his throat, choking him and telling him that he needs more. That he needs to tug Axel in as close as possible and never let him go. So Roxas sighs and ghosts his hands up the curve of Axel’s spine so he can fist his hands in the fabric against his shoulderblades.
He’s worried that Axel won’t touch him back. That the need to touch and breathe and hold is just him overreacting, over-encumbered by his new heart. But then Axel breathes out, a whoosh of air that ruffles the curls against Roxas’ left ear, and drapes his arms around Roxas’s shoulders, sliding his hands down Roxas’ back to clutch at the fabric against his shoulderblades, mirroring Roxas’ own hold.
They stay there like that, in the dim light of the TARDIS, and breathe each other in.
.
The aftermath of the hug is the faintest bit awkward. While the room had been choked with emotion at the time, the second they pulled away, things had gotten a bit... awkward. This was uncharted territory, brand new waters, and Roxas didn’t know how deep they ran. His heart wanted to keep touching Axel, possibly forever, and there had been a moment, when Axel had pulled away, his eyes soft and his body relaxed and happy that Roxas thought about kissing him.
He would have, maybe. Probably. But then Axel had cleared his throat and the moment was broken.
Now, Roxas is attempting to show Axel their rooms, pointing out the library, the kitchen, the aether, and the wardrobe as they pass them, trying not to stammer. They’re at Roxas’ room by the time that it occurs to him that maybe Axel won’t want a room with him. They hadn't ever really shared rooms at the castle, just traipsed back and forth between each others quite a lot, and maybe Axel would like a room of his own?
And why had he assumed Axel would be sleeping with him? There had been looks and unspoken promises and countless sunsets, but they’d never shared a bed. Contrary to what Larxene thought, they weren’t really lovers. Not then. Dozens of missed opportunities, but the words had never been spoken.
They shuffle around a bit in the door to Roxas’ room,, awkward and unsure and a little bit scared, and Roxas is just figuring out how to ask if Axel would prefer bunkbeds, separate rooms, or Roxas’ bed when Axel heaves a noise of frustration and angles Roxas’ chin toward him.
His heart doesn’t have time to start pounding before Axel slides their lips together.
.
(Axel’s fine with sharing Roxas’ bed. And his shower. And his teacup.
Axel’s actually okay with sharing a lot of things.)
.
The Doctor wakes them in the morning with a loud knock to the door and a cheerful call of, “Now, I’ve given you two enough time to exchange fluids and bond profoundly. Come down to breakfast. Roxas, you know that the TARDIS makes the best tea for you.”
The footsteps outside of the door suggest that he’s meandering off towards the kitchens, but then they stop, and he calls back worriedly, “And clothed, please! I had enough naked teatime when Jack was around.”
Roxas buries his face in the covers, mortified, and Axel laughs against the back of his neck.
It’s the best morning Roxas has ever had.
.
The planet turns out to be a bust, though they do spend a week or so in jail because Axel reminds the people of some corrupt judge that jumped planet when they caught on to him.
It takes some explaining to get out of prison, and once they do, the planet is in the middle of a revolution which threatens the whole of creation.
So they fix that.
And then they go search another planet.
.
They look and look and look and eventually, it becomes less of them actually looking and more of them trying to save the universe while keeping an eye out for spare hearts.
The thing is, finding a heart is simple. Time is full of hearts- real, fake, plastic, machine- there’s actually a heart in the Gozafon galaxy made entirely of shrapnel- but they're all transplants, meant to fill the void where a failing heart sits.
There are no hearts for the heartless, no starter kit- no way to grow your own heart in 30 days. Human beings function on the assumption that if one is living, one has one’s own heart. Roxas doesn't entirely know what kind of weird pseudo magic encompasses a nobodies existence and makes it possible for their blood to keep rushing without an orifice to pump it along, but it's making things damned difficult right about now.
Roxas shares his heart with Sora. He knows this. Can even feel Sora on the slow days, when they're all reclining about the TARDIS, not thinking about warp stars or wayward space ships, just relaxing-- the Doctor sauntering around the library muttering to himself about pancakes and how they need to visit the 31st century, Axel investigating the bathtub and its many products while Roxas reclines on the chaise a few feet away, flicking the pages of his book and valiantly ignoring Axel’s attempts to both splash him and cajole him into the tub as well.
But Sora is Sora. He’s like a hyperactive rabbit in the back of Roxas’ head, a television channel that he can’t turn off- too far away for the thoughts to be clear, but something there. Something shared. He imagines that it's similar to twins- two embryo separated, but the link remaining.
Lea is dead. Finding Lea- even if they knew what to do with him once they found him--would be too risky.
Sora was a heartless, and Kairi brought him back into the light. Who knows where the heartless that used to be Lea is, if it's even still alive.
He doesn't know.
They don't know.
So they wait, and keep both eyes open.
.
As a distraction, the Doctor makes them go on a vacation.
They take Axel to Paris. Paris in the 1400s, to be precise. The Feast of Fools, the Doctor tells them, is really quite fascinating. Roxas thinks that it's actually rather offensive, but then- well, he knows better than to tell the Doctor that when he's got that look in his eyes.
And okay, mostly he'd agreed to it because it's a good excuse to shove Axel into the Doctor's wardrobe and wrestle him into a jester's outfit, but Roxas isn't telling them that either.
The festival, as it turns out, really is offensive. Oh, at first it holds up to the Doctor's claim of brilliance- the Doctor decks himself out in scarves and earrings and brightly colored outfits that Roxas is positive have seen better days while Roxas manages to find a costume that isn't too grating to the eyes. The bracelets and the headdress jingle a little bit too much, and they annoy the hell out of him, making his arms itch. But when Axel sees him, he grins, huge and happy, so Roxas keeps them and tries not to feel like too big of an idiot.
The festival is also a great excuse to let Axel have a bit of fun. Jester's tricks are laughed at in this era- entertainment rather than a source of fear- and the moment that Axel realizes he can play with fire beneath the hot Parisian sun he gleefully sets his arms alight. The crowd cheers and Axel is grinning, the Doctor whistling beside Roxas as they watch Axel set the air on fire- watch the elaborate loops and how Axel steals a pole from someone and lights both ends with a flick of his wrist. It's like he was born to this- and maybe in some ways he was.
(Roxas remembers the way he'd come to life as a Nobody, ultraviolet light setting the grass on fire, blooming behind his eyes. Roxas had wondered if he was blind before he'd even really known what being blind was. He wonders if it had happened to Axel like that, if Axel had woken up on fire, rising from the ashes like a phoenix.)
It's nice to drink and laugh with the rest of the crowd, to watch people with hideous masks compete for a demeaning crown.
The gypsies are all friendly- perhaps a little bit too friendly considering that the prettiest of them waltzes over to Axel and dances with him amongst the embers, red and glittering skirts hiked up to her thighs, bangles jangling about her person, her smooth cheeks dimpled with laughter.
But things go sour soon enough- the good cheer vanishing, replaced with a storm of anger and hate. It's sad in a way that makes Roxas' new heart burn .
The Doctor is still trying to teach him some complex game when they notice the silence, and Roxas' eyes seek out Axel automatically. He finds him quickly, standing in the square with his teeth clenched together and licks of flame still smoldering along his pale arms- all traces of laughter gone, just anger, so when Roxas sidles up next to him a few minutes later and Axel reaches for his hand, Roxas doesn't hesitate to slip them together.
The crowd is jeering around them, grabbing for rotten fruit and ropes and when they strap the man- the hunchback, to the wheel, Roxas doesn't even want to look at the Doctor.
His fingers itch for the keyblade and maybe the Doctor had smiled at him when they'd arrived, grinning all puppyish but shaking his finger in Roxas' face when he'd said, "Now remember, don't interfere," but it's not normal to stand by and watch. The keyblade is in his hands before he can talk himself out of it, and he's slipping up to the stage- cutting the ropes just as the pretty gypsy woman from before is starting towards them.
He almost doesn't listen to the enraged shouts of the judge or the gypsy woman's hissed words. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he's so sad; he doesn't understand- and then Axel is there. Axel with a sneer for the judge and a cloth to wipe the pulpy insides of rotten fruit from the man's face. The Doctor is somewhere to the right, whispering something to the woman as Axel helps Roxas heft him to his feet. It's hard, see, because the man is heavy, oddly muscled in a way that you wouldn't quite guess.
By now Roxas is used to running, the thrill and fear of it, the thumping of feet against the ground- and when Axel switches places with the gypsy girl, her arms to help Roxas guide the poor guy to safety, he doesn't need the Doctor's hissed "run," to prompt him. He doesn't really get it at first, but then he feels the heat at his back and realizes what it is- a smokescreen to ease their way.
Moments later, Axel is breathing harshly at his side, a smudge of soot dusted across his nose. He grimaces, like there's a bad taste caught in the back of his throat and Roxas lets out a harsh, shuddering breath, listening to their feet on the cobblestone, the slapping of their shoes as they ascend the stairs, anything to distract him.
They come to a stop, Axel pressing close to him, glancing around like some kind of overgrown guard dog while the Doctor fiddles with the Cathedral door, sonic screwdriver humming away in his hands. The girl is scowling at the sky as if it's to blame for all this, and Roxas remembers that not all men are good. A heart they may have, but seldom do they use it.
The girl tries to manage a smile and a faint curtsy when she introduces herself, “Esmeralda,” she says, and the man frowns shyly at the floorboards, dripping rotten food, and stammers out his name.
Later, the Doctor will rave about silly prejudices and both commend and berate Roxas for his interference in less than a sentence. Later they will meet gargoyles that talk and the Doctor will make a terrible noise in the back of his throat and ask them if they plan to kill anyone or perhaps transport them back in time.
They will see the Court of Miracles and watch Paris burn, and throughout it all, Axel will be at his side- even when the world gets its happy ending.
And even when he's grinning up at Axel, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheeks, he still can't get that image of hate out of his head.
Maybe the heartless had it right. Some men don't deserve hearts.
.
Worlds and worlds and worlds and Welcome to Rapture, which really, if he never hears those words again, it will be too soon.
.
It starts mostly because Roxas tends to get left behind with the scientists a lot. Well, it's not that he gets left behind, not exactly- it's just, the Doctor and Axel are both very exuberant individuals, and in the face of their mutual excitement towards the unknown, Roxas doesn't stand a chance. So it's often that with an apologetic kiss (from Axel) and a grinned "Allonsy!" (from the Doctor) he's left behind to mind the humans.
(And really, most of the time, they need a babysitter, like the time in Capua when they thought it would be a good idea to catch the bad guys themselves and left Roxas tied to a chair. The fact that they were eviscerated messily makes Roxas feel a little bit guilty for still being mad about the whole tying up business, but it makes him realize that he has to be on guard at all times.)
(And then there was that other time on Axis III, but he won't even get into that.)
And when you get down to it, it's mostly chance that the first few batches of humans that he's tasked to watch over happen to be the significantly smarter portion of the human race. That first time, while the Doctor and Axel are off trying to convince a giant tortoise with the world on its back to keep the world on its back and he's meandering around the science stations, it comes as something of a shock.
He's tapping the floor with his keyblade when he happens to glance over a nearby scientists shoulder, just to see what they're working on, and well- that was it. Up until then he'd only known about space through the Doctor's rambling and the glimpses of half formed planets out of the TARDIS' window. He hadn't actually known that there were different types of suns, that the surfaces of some planets were uninhabitable.
When Axel and the Doctor get back, he's engrossed in a discussion about dwarf stars with the leading scientist (Professor Blackwell, you can call me Ned) and several of the assistants are pulling up charts and bar graphs and statistics about a new galaxy they'd discovered--
The book that Ned gives him isn't perfect, after all, they're only in the 22nd century, but Roxas hugs it close to his chest and grins all the way back to the TARDIS.
.
It becomes something of a habit, after that- collecting books on astrophysics and all the many and varied theories of relativity and the engineering of space ships- the mechanics of time and the beginnings of that knowledge the Time Lords mastered. There's a book from the 65th century that's almost entirely in early Meso-Xiangese that Roxas gets from a girl that Axel saved from tumorous parasites. He makes the Doctor waste a month teaching him the language, ignoring the offers of, "Roxas, I could just read it to you," because when he picks up the book and starts to read, it's worth all the whining.
Sometimes, when Roxas is curled up on his and Axel's bed with a book and the Doctor's poking about the hallway, the Time Lord will stick his head in the room, take one look at the book Roxas is reading and promptly scoff, saying "Oh please, Norman-Fasco got it all wrong. Let me teach you a little something about dark matter."
This is usually followed by a night long discussion about the universe, and if he's really lucky, the Doctor will get so enthusiastic about it that he'll roll his eyes, extend a hand, and say, "Here, let me just show you."
Roxas will never get over the peculiarity of seeing space out of the TARDIS. It's not quite like those nights that he'd spent watching Sora hiss under his breath and gun down Heartless ships, not at all. Watching a world below you and having the Doctor slowly point out bits of facts and tidbits of information- it's like nothing Roxas has ever known.
And it makes sense. He was born as a Nobody, with the element of light at his side, born smelling of carbon and radiation, feeling the gamma rays and breathing infrared- and then later he was reborn in space- given his heart and his body and the soul that he's mostly sure he still shares a little bit with Sora right here, in this space ship, with this alien. It only makes sense that he'd want to know more.
.
As many adventures as they have, mind-shattering terror and hostage situations and plants that want to get a bit frisky, their trips are always a bit more than the danger. Yes, they're fascinating and brilliant and awe inspiring in a way that is actually impossible to explain, but the little details are the most important to him- like the bubbles clinging to the inside of Axel's wrist and the way that the Doctor has to keep pushing up his glasses whenever he reads over Roxas' shoulder like some kind of school teacher. Like how sometimes the Doctor will yawn and tell Roxas to take over, meandering down the hallways for a bath and leaving Roxas alone with Axel and a purring time machine.
Details- they stick to the insides of Roxas' eyelids like barnacles, something worth remembering.
.
The first time Roxas had tried to implement laundry day, the Doctor had laughed at him. Though, considering the fact that he and Axel had been fully immersed in a debate about whether or not the Time Agency was actually an acceptable career choice at the time, he might have been laughing at Axel.
And then, fourteen (hundred) days later, Roxas had brought it up again. This time it wasn’t just because Roxas was in need of clean underwear and socks, but rather because they’d gotten back from a particularly grueling adventure involving mud monsters, swamps, and pixiedust-happy fairies and the Doctor had just dropped his mud encrusted, pixie dust sprinkled suit in the corner of the TARDIS and left it there.
“You can’t just leave that there! It already smells!”
The Doctor glanced at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised with incredulity. “No it won’t. And anyway- it’ll be clean when I get back.”
Except for how it hadn’t been.
Roxas has a sneaking suspicion that the TARDIS likes to shove all the Doctor’s dank and smelly suits right into the Vortex when he isn’t looking and just makes him new ones instead, because when they do get back, the suit is clean, but it’s also sporting brown pinstripes rather than blue.
What a waste of clothing.
.
Roxas is halfheartedly talking to the TARDIS about their latest expedition, muttering expletives beneath his breath about the natives while occasionally cooing about what a good job the Doctor did at stopping the manmade volcano, when Axel laughs from behind him.
He rolls his eyes and doesn't turn around. He's far from ashamed when it comes to his mostly one-sided conversations with the Doctor's space ship. After all, she's far more intelligent than most humans he's had the pleasure of conversing with.
Another breath and Axel's weight presses up against his back, arms draping over his shoulders like he's some kind of octopus, his breath hot against Roxas' ear when he breathes, "Talking to the ship, Roxas? If you needed company, I wasn't doing much."
Roxas sniffs. "You were sleeping."
"So I was."
"You needed it."
"Not as badly as you do if you're reduced to conversing with a ship."
Roxas finally turns away from the controls so he can grin at Axel over his shoulder. "Be careful," he whispers, "She'll shock you again."
Axel scoffs and flaps a hand dismissively. "Trust me, as long as she doesn't lock me out like she did in Fesmaporia, we're fine."
The TARDIS makes a shrill humming noise and that's all it takes for Axel to look nervous. Roxas laughs.
"You can't exactly blame her, Axel. You set her on fire-"
"It was an accident! It's not my fault that you were withholding the Cheerios like some kind of Cheerio-hoarding tyrant. And anyway," he adds, lowering his voice a fraction, "She's a greedy wretch and she knows it. She wants you all to herself."
"So, let me get this straight," he starts drolly, "you set the console on fire when you were trying to wrestle the cereal away from me, and you're blaming it on the fact that the space ship wants me all to herself."
"No! I set the console on fire because you didn't cave like a normal human being when I brought out the tickling." A pause. "I'm blaming her wanting you all to herself on the fact that she wants you all to herself."
Roxas snorts and taps idly against the small television hidden amongst wiring, peering at the numbers scrawling across it. He's going to ignore that last bit.
"So, if tickling fails, one must resort to fire. Wait, stop- I need to write this down. I'll call it something dreadful like-" he pauses and leans forward a bit to spin the dampener down to seven, "-'Why Axel should never be trusted with small children.'" Axel makes a noise behind him, something like a protest and Roxas has to grin, wriggling back and rubbing up against Axel's front. The noise of protest fades.
Roxas brightens. "I'll even publish it! I'm sure the Doctor has contacts somewhere. That way I'm not the only one who knows how to babysit you."
Axel growls a bit and tugs Roxas' ear between his teeth, sudden, grinding up against Roxas almost helplessly. "Maybe I like it that you're the only one who knows how to babysit me," he purrs, lips brushing up against Roxas' neck in short, little kisses.
Roxas laughs again, and his heart feels a bit like soaring, like if he had pixie dust he'd be hovering right here and now, in the control room of the TARDIS with Axel all over him. "Age kink now? Jeez, Axel, I don't really know if I'm into that."
He turns, because it's impossible not to- with Axel right there, pupils blown wide and a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.
Roxas had learned quickly that being in love with a fully functional heart in his chest is a little overwhelming, his breath coming short and emotion clogging up his throat, feelings pounding along to the tempo of his heart. Exhilaration, joy, longing, want, want, want-
And the feeling doesn’t go away. Every kiss feels like that- every hug, cuddle, grope, and fuck feels like something impossible, something out of fairytales.
When Axel pulls back, his smile has lost all the sharp edges, softening so much that it's reached his eyes- making them crinkle at the corners. Roxas wants to drag them back into their room and kiss him senseless, maybe forget to be quiet for once and laugh about how red the Doctor will go when he sees them next.
But the Doctor is tired, and Roxas has a ship to pilot.
He grins at Axel.
"So, want me to teach you how to drive?" he asks and relishes in the way his heart flutters when Axel lights up.
Part 2
Series: Kingdom Hearts/Doctor Who
Pairing/Characters: Axel/Roxas, The Doctor
Rating: PG-13
Total length: 13,781 words
Warnings: Massive crossovers and too much world hopping. The Doctor Who timeline is a scary place. (Stupid paradoxes)
Summary: Nothing is whole - and nothing is broken; a love song to waltz through time.
Authors Note: I am going to pull a tierfal here, and apologize for the excessively long authors note.
1) For those of you who don't know, this fic is a sequel to Chance a Glance at the Stars, a Doctor Who/Kingdom Hearts fic that I wrote a little while ago. Considering that this won't make much sense if you haven't read that one, go ahead and do so. Don't worry though- that one is about 10,000 words shorter than this one.
2) I recently found this really awesome TARDIS map post of awesome, so go visit that. I obviously couldn’t really do it justice, but the first few floors are based on it.
3) Rae, I love you. I am so sorry that I took so long with this, but I sincerely hope that the wait was actually worth it.
4) Chances are I am going to wind up writing more in this universe. After all, I still owe tierfal some crack fic about kittens. So. There's that.
5) I love all of you- every single person who listened to me bitch and cheered me on. Seriously. Even though this is mild on the fic scale of hugeness, it’s the longest fic that I have ever written. And it kind of killed me. Just a little.
6) neffectual, I may have used part of your end note for my summary. I'm sorry. It struck a chord. Hopefully you don't mind?
7) And if you're curious, I've made a playlist of the songs I listened to while writing this.
Beta shout-outs: I would not have been able to post this without the help of the following lovely ladies: calciseptine, faorism, darthvair_65, neffectual, and as always, my light when all other lights go dark, rudy_flamthrowa. You were all amazing, and seriously, thank you so much for holding my hand through all of this.
When the Doctor was younger, a friend once told him that some things will always be impossible. Some things are in flux, ever changing, while others stay set in stone. He’d given examples, as well; how the Doctor would never manage to get higher marks than him or how the Doctor would never quite manage to scale the ranks of the Academy high enough to get a ship of his own.
He’d promised though, that when he got his own ship, the Doctor could be a member of his crew. That he wouldn’t let the Academy talk him out of it. That he knew the Doctor was meant for more than his sub par marks would allow.
He was right, of course. At least as far as the Doctor being meant for more was concerned. They never really got around to the other things, unfortunately. The Doctor ran-- stole a ship while he was at it-- and showed his friend that he would never let himself be set in stone.
The fact that the man in question had grown into a homicidal mass murderer is neither here nor there.
Now, with Roxas poking half-heartedly at the consoles as he watches Sora guide his gummi ship away from the TARDIS, the Doctor wonders what he’d think of this endeavor. This mad, impossible thing that he’d suggested before he had the chance to think about it. Before he could think of the possibility of heartbreak, and the endless paradoxes that could enfold from this simple thing. He wonders- what would he think? Would he laugh at the Doctor for his foolish sentimentality, chide him for catching a case of humanity, and classify this as an impossibility? Or would he get that soft look he used to, and say, “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” and take the Doctor with him to set the stars straight?
He supposes he’ll never know.
(He thinks the Master-- his Master, back when they were just Koschei and Theta with the whole of the universe stretching before them- would have liked Roxas. He always did have a thing for blonds.)
Roxas is still staring at Sora’s ship through the TARDIS’ open door with a bit of a heartsick expression, like he’s not sure whether he should be feeling sad or excited. The Doctor thinks it’s incredibly interesting that this slip of a boy can ignore the swirls and dancing flames of nearby Betelgeuse to focus on the fading blocks of a ship he’s seen dozens of times.
He’s poking at the tea tray now, stirring Sora’s barely touched tea -long gone cold- with half a biscuit while the other hand taps an unknown beat onto the back of his seat. He’s fidgety, like he’s got too much energy built up under his skin and doesn’t quite know what to do with it- but beneath that there’s a steady calm reminiscent of a warrior.
He might be mad for doing this, and he is- just a mad man with a box who hates the sound of children crying, but as things often go in his world, events line up. A cheeky brunette with a wide smile and a ridiculous space ship found him time and time again- ran into him through all of time and space, until their ships decided that they should meet. And this boy had another boy trapped inside his brain, hiding amongst the wrinkly folds of the cerebellum and the hippocampus, a boy who didn’t quite fit. And it wasn’t chance that just that last week the Doctor had obtained a machine that would work perfectly for this type of thing. That when he looked at that boy who didn’t quite fit, he realized that he could help him.
After all, everything happens for a reason.
So maybe he isn’t all that mad for taking on such a ludicrous task. Maybe Roxas has a hope. Maybe things won’t be tragic this time around.
But none of that matters.
This isn’t his story to tell.
.
Finding Axel, as it turns out, is not as easy as it seems. See, the Doctor has this nasty habit of getting distracted, and more often than not they don't quite end up at their intended destination. It’s not just the fact that he’s a terrible navigator, though by now it’s abundantly clear to Roxas that this is also the case. But the Doctor never really travels in a straight line. He weaves in and out of time, the TARDIS clattering around the time vortex like a semi with a trashed driver. He never really makes it exactly when and where he wants. It’s always, “Oh yes, whoops, you wanted 2010 AD, didn’t you? Well, BC’s just as nice, and while we’re here...”
It’s as endearing as it is frustrating, though Roxas does enjoy the candies they procure from the various worlds that happen to get in their way.
They pass through dozens of worlds, moons, and space colonies that against all odds float between a trio of star clusters. They meander back and forth though time, skip into the 82nd century on a moon called Aepil XVI, engage with villains and heroes, and borrow a hat from someone called Abraham Lincoln. It's all extraordinarily interesting, and there's a great deal of running involved that makes Roxas wish he'd spent the last few years exercising rather than reclining on an easy chair somewhere behind Sora's eyelids. The fact of the matter, though, is that they haven't even started looking for Axel yet.
So, on the twenty-seventh time that they step out of the TARDIS, (which is only the sixteenth time they’ve landed on solid ground) and the Doctor shoves a hand through his tawny hair, saying, "Well, this isn't quite right," Roxas tries to convince the old timer to teach him how to drive. Only the Doctor seems to remember that Roxas punctuated his request by lashing out with a golden pepper grinder from the navigation plate, but after a bit more convincing in the forms of bruises and pathetic eyes, he attempts to pass along his skipper’s knowledge of the blue box.
When that fails, as things with the Doctor are wont to do, he manages to convince the TARDIS to show him. This isn't exactly the easiest thing to do either. In fact, it was probably extremely unwise of him to plunge headlong into the mesomorphic folds of wiring beneath the ship’s bronze exterior paneling in the hopes that asking her core would get a more positive answer. He’d never really considered that the TARDIS, while a time machine, was also a lady, and ladies didn’t particularly like it when you flicked up their skirts. After much groveling (and several weeks of getting shocked every time he touches a horizontal surface) she seems to forgive him, teaching him through a series of affirmative hums (and many shrill negative shrieks) and one game of hot and cold that the TARDIS takes far too seriously. Eventually, after a long, exhausting struggle and more than a few weeks bumping around the Time Vortex, she manages to beat it into him.
After an ill advised practice run to ancient Rome, Roxas nurses a few blistered fingers and, according to the Doctor, is “lucky to have an upper torso,” but he’s finally a hundred percent sure that he really gets it this time time.
It’s times like this that Roxas mourns the fact that the TARDIS doesn’t have windows. He thinks that it would make the whole traveling in time and space thing a bit more interesting-- watching the stars pass them by. The Doctor tells him that she had some once, but after a bit of a mishap with a baseball being tossed around (which wasn’t his fault, of course) she just stopped producing them. Roxas doesn’t really blame her.
So he props the TARDIS doors open with a wayward shoe while the Doctor sulks bitterly in the corner like a wronged cat and watches the Clock Tower swell against the tangerine sky. It looms over the rest of Twilight Town, larger than he remembers, and looking at it, he can almost taste the sea salt in the back of his throat. There’s the tram, loud on it’s rickety track- and the place where Hayner taught him how to skateboard. The Secret Place, with it’s heaps of junk and treasures, like they were playing Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, never wanting to grow up- carving out a place of their own.
There is the place that Axel came for him, and the place where Axel had grinned when he thought Roxas remembered who he was.
There are tunnels and an old mansion, train tracks where a mouse king had walked. Hundreds of memories, real and fake, clawing their way through his head. Olette helping him with his french homework, Pence nattering on about that trip to the beach that he’d taken with his family. Hayner grinning at him, and helping him beat Seifer into the ground.
There’s a patch of ground down there where Roxas had first met Axel.
A specific seat he’d taken on the Clock Tower when they’d watched their first sunset.
The place where he’d asked Axel if nobodies could love.
(The place where Axel had looked at him, shoulders tense and jaw clenched, and said, “You need a heart, man.”)
There’s Xion and Hayner and Larxene and Pence and Hayner and all the other Nobodies, and always, always Axel. Everything will always come back to him. Roxas will always come back to him, because Axel isn’t the only one who felt like he had a heart. It feels like there’s something clawing up his throat, a lump that screams I’mscaredIwantIloveImissIcherish all at once.
It feels like hope, and it hurts.
.
Though, nothing is ever perfect right away.
Just because Roxas got them there doesn't necessarily mean he'd found the right doorway. It’s like he’s new to his body again- meandering around Castle Oblivion without a clue as to what he was doing, who he was.
They'd jumped back too far, the Doctor says, and it won't work. “Paradoxes, you see. Never interfere with your own timeline,” he sighs, sipping tea out of an old and battered taffy tin that is supposedly from a planet whose tourism relies completely on its confectionery industry.
“It can get rather nasty,” he adds quietly, watching the two silhouettes atop the tower.
They can't take him now, he says, because it would change too many things.
Somewhere out there, there’s a specific point in time, a specific place that shouldn’t exist. A passageway, betwixt and between, that is full of Dusks and a terrified keyblade master who thinks he’s about to die. Roxas remembers that. How Sora’s heart was too loud-- how the keyblade had quivered in his hand as he'd watched the Dusks come, relentless and unstoppable. How Sora had heaved a frustrated sigh, and thought, "well, that's it then."
Mostly though, he recalls the way that he had felt when Sora saw Axel, and how hope had flooded their chest. Without Axel, they would have died there. The Dusks would have overtaken them, ripped them apart and gotten to the gore. There would be no fading softly into darkness for Sora- he would die, and it would be messy; crushed by nothings in a place that didn’t exist. It would be like they’d never existed at all.
“Yeah. Okay. Maybe you have a point there,” he concedes, watching himself smile and take a bar of ice cream from Axel. It would be so easy though, so simple to walk up to Axel and that broken part of himself and take Axel away.
The Doctor watches too, a crease between his brows and something fragile lurking in those ancient eyes. Roxas wonders how many times he has watched someone he loved mere seconds out of his reach, and thought that he could save them. How many times he must have reminded himself about paradoxes, and how many times he’s been tempted to brave the dangers of working with his own timeline.
He wants to haul Axel away from everything Roxas is about to say and do that hurts him. Instead, he yanks the Doctor away by his tie, backs them into the TARDIS and frowns down at the controls, squinting at the coordinates scrolling across the screen. She hums beneath him, a low, sad purr that he thinks might be her way of comforting them.
He does not look at the Doctor.
The Doctor sidles up next to him and nudges an elbow into his side, bumps their hips together playfully. "Cheer up, Roxy-boy. Let's try again."
.
The second time isn't much better than the first. Sora's talking to Axel and Axel-- he looks wrecked, his hair drooping pathetically, bruises smeared beneath his eyes. He's waving a hand, rolling his eyes, using all the right motions- like a marionette getting its strings tugged- but Roxas can tell. He hurts.
They leave. Still not right.
.
Axel isn't even there the third time.
(When Saix glowers at Sora and says, "Axel would stop at nothing to turn you into a heartless," something inside him aches.)
.
Roxas remembers this place; betwixt and between they’d called it. He remembers the sky blues, the emerald greens, and the burnt tangerine creeping along what passed for walls. It still smells like darkness, and he can’t help but recall feeling completely helpless, trapped inside of Sora's heart as the Dusks swarmed around them.
He remembers what came after.
This isn't the best place to yank him out of his timeline, he knows that. It’s risky, impossible to predict whether or not they can even affect the outcome of the battle. What if the Dusks still overrun them? What if Axel’s sacrifice was the only way this could possibly end? For the first time he wonders if maybe they should have jumped even further back, if they should have grabbed Lea before he died- but that paradox- that paradox is definitely too dangerous to even consider.
Sora's eyes widen when he sees Roxas, stumbling with his keyblade still buried to the hilt inside a dusk. The dusk disappears, flakes of dust settling around Sora's knuckles and wrists like snow. He doesn't know yet about the Roxas inside of him, just knows the name and the face. Roxas hopes that he’s not knocking over too many dominoes here. Ripping a brand new alternate universe into the fabric of time and space isn’t what he’d been aiming for.
The Doctor is behind him, rocking on his heels at the edge of Roxas' vision, fingers twisting anxiously in his pockets. He looks nervous-- like he wants to run.
No running this time.
Axel--- well, Axel can’t stop looking at him. He stops where he is, flames smoldering around the edges of his chakrams, and just stares-- mouth parted, glancing back and forth between Sora and Roxas with a crease between his brow. He looks so confused that Roxas can't help laughing. There's something light and happy curling up in his chest, and he can't begin to describe the feeling of really seeing Axel again, of knowing with complete clarity that this is it- this time I save him.
"Axel," he breathes.
"Roxas," Axel acknowledges quietly, as though he's afraid the word will make him vanish. Then, "But Sora-"
Roxas shakes his head and grins. It's not Sora's grin. Not the memory of a smile. It's Roxas' and well, that's kind of a huge deal, feeling his own smile-- having Axel there to cause it.
Oathkeeper feels good in his hand, and for a moment he wonders if maybe he shouldn't reach, shouldn't grasp for that bit of Xion that got carried over, but when Bond of Flame appears in his other hand, he thinks that maybe she wanted him to have it.
"I'll tell you later."
.
They let Sora go, making a portal for him to the World that Never Was, because although he still seems puzzled, he has things he needs to do.
Sora leaves with a frown and a faint goodbye, waving halfheartedly while Goofy leans close and whispers loudly, “Gawrsh, Sora. That was nice o’ them ta help out.”
They disappear, and Roxas is left only with the Doctor, Axel, and a time machine that seems a little too nervous about parking where there shouldn't’t be solid ground.
The Doctor seems a bit apprehensive, peering at the shadows as if he's expecting one of the aliens he's told Roxas about to pop up and try to end the universe, but already Roxas can feel the new memories slotting into place over the old ones. The memory of watching through Sora's eyes as Axel faded away isn't gone- he thinks that it will never be gone, but it's hazier, replaced with the memory of watching himself and Axel silhouetted in front of the TARDIS as the portal closed behind Sora.
Axel still looks confused, like despite fighting off Dusks alongside Sora and Roxas, he's still not entirely sure it's all real.
He ushers Axel into the TARDIS with an amused smile and a gentle hand to the small of his back. He has some explaining to do.
.
It isn't until later, when Axel's reclining back against the controls, his coat hanging in shredded tatters around his calves that they realize they have a problem.
Muscle memory had taken over the moment they'd stepped into the TARDIS, and Roxas is half busying himself with tea (Eiryen fire water, spicy with just a hint of chai) when he hears the Doctor groan from the other room. Axel makes an inquisitive sound, something soft in the back of his throat that makes Roxas think of the time he and Xion had tried to explain the rules of Scrabble when they didn't quite understand it themselves.
The Doctor coughs, and Roxas is just rounding the corner, when he says, "Well, this won't do."
Axel is frowning, back rigid. "What?"
The Doctor sighs, and scratches at his temple with the sonic screwdriver, face twisted into a mask of frustration. He starts fiddling with the TARDIS's controls, muttering to himself as he goes. "Why do you two have to be so complicated," he whines. Axel sputters a bit, and glances towards Roxas, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. He clenches his hands into his coat though, and grumbles a bit, growling, “I’ll show you complicated...” before he starts plucking at the gadgets nearby.
Roxas takes a moment to let the surge of affection consume him, because here is Axel- his Axel, right here in front of him and grumbling as if they’d run out of ice cream on a hot summer day. He smiles and looks away from Axel, because he doesn’t know how long he can hold out before he makes a grab for his coattail, attempts a hug, or, if very desperate, just crawls into his lap. He raises his brows at the Doctorand sets the tea a safe distance away from the Doctor. He'd learned quickly that hot liquids in close proximity to a harried Doctor was not a particularly clever combination.
"What is it?" he asks softly, and Axel turns to look at him when the Doctor doesn't, his forehead wrinkled with frown lines. He wants to touch him. Has to touch him, because he has to see if he’s real-- he has to.
He’s just starting to reach for Axel’s hand when the Doctor finally stops tinkering with the controls and turns part way towards them, canting his hip against the control panel and grimacing at him. "There's something we didn't quite factor into our plans, Roxas."
Roxas scowls, ignoring the way Axel is suddenly frowning and saying in a sharp voice, “what plans, Roxas?” because that means there's something wrong with Axel. "What?" he hisses, too demanding- ungrateful, but he's worried and the Doctor just looks at him, slow and meaningful, dragging a hand over to press against Axel's chest (“What? What? Dude, get off of me-”) and what does he-
Oh.
Oh.
How could they have been so stupid? Forgetting one of the most important parts, like putting Humpty Dumpty back together again and forgetting the yolk. Fuck.
He licks suddenly dry lips-- doesn't let himself look at Axel. "What do we do?"
The Doctor smiles at him, sudden and bright, like he’s trying to make this whole mess into less of a big deal- as if he’s trying to reassure them. He pats Axel's shoulder and his smile broadens into a grin at Axel's look of outrage. "Well, first, I guess we need to find you a heart."
.
It's not that simple.
.
It's really not.
.
But that will come later.
.
They start out towards a planet that the Doctor thinks might be able to help them. He says it’ll take them a bit to reach it- a few days, maybe, and that they might want a chance to catch up anyway.
They explain things, first, because when the Doctor tries to leave the telling to just Roxas, he panics and latches onto the Doctor’s shirtsleeves, all but begging for help.
It’s not that he thinks Axel won’t believe him, it’s that he doesn’t know where to start.
So they explained about collisions between space ships and Roxas' body and Sora's soul and the machine that let it happen, the machine that let Roxas live.
Axel’s always been an expressive person for someone that doesn’t have a heart. He’s all hands, talking with them-- waving them about like he’s made it his life mission to elbow someone in the eye. But Axel when he’s silent-- Roxas thinks that that is when he’s most expressive of all. He’s quiet, and relatively still, but it’s the play of emotion in his eyes- the way that his body twitches when the Doctor tells him about a time that Roxas had nearly gotten himself killed trying to get back to him, the way that his shoulders loosen whenever they mention something that all but screams, this is how much Roxas loves you.
When Axel asks about the machine, and how something had transferred an entire consciousness into a brand new body, the Doctor explains it to him. The data banks stored in the center of a man-made planet with every possible design, every possible species. He grins widely and elbows Axel in the side, telling him with a faintly conspiratorial look, "I told him to go for the wings, but he seemed to think he was above them."
Axel had grinned a bit, playing up his reaction and stood up from his chair- hand to his heart and intoned, perfectly deadpan, "Roxas, how could you? Wings, Roxy, big flappy wings with feathers and stuff."
And after, the Doctor leaves with some excuse about playing with the TARDIS’ circuitry and maybe having a bath (Roxas personally hopes he doesn’t mean at the same time, but with the Doctor, you never really know), leaving them alone in the control room with just the echoes of time outside to mask the silence.
“So,” Axel says, drifting a bit closer to him.
“So...” Roxas says, because now that the impossible has finally been achieved, now that he actually has Axel, he’s not entirely sure what to do with him.
The controls are dim now that the Doctor has left, as if the TARDIS herself is trying to tell Roxas to do something already. The faint teal glow lights up the left side of Axel’s face, shadows playing across them in a way that would almost look eerie if Roxas didn’t know that the way his hands were twitching meant he was at a loss for words and was just a little put out about it.
“So,” Axel starts again, and he smooths his twitching hands down the side of his coat, like he’s brushing away lint. “I guess you missed me?”
Oh right, touching. That’s probably where he should start.
He can count on one hand how many times he’s actually hugged Axel. It’s always been a careful arm around his shoulder, or an affectionate swat to Axel’s hair. A hand around his waist, fingertips digging into his hips the one time Axel had tugged him closer on the Clock Tower, so they were pressed together from shoulders to hips. A touch to his wrist and a hesitant touch to Axel’s cheek, once, and only because he was hurt.
But he hugs Axel now, because that need to see if he’s real is back full force, making the pit of his stomach sour until he gets an arm on solid flesh. Axel’s taller than him, and for a minute, he’s not entirely sure where to set his hands. Hips may be too intimate, but he’d need to go up on the tips of his toes to get his arms around Axel’s shoulders. He settles for wrapping his arms around Axel’s waist, resting both hands against the small of his back, and pressing his face into the worn leather covering Axel’s chest.
He smells like sweat and fire, that charcoal scent that Roxas used to get caught in the back of his throat for days while Axel was away. It makes his chest hurt, and the smell takes him back to days where they lounged around on Roxas’ bed-- days they spent exploring Agrabah and Atlantica and only pretending that they were there on business.
Axel makes a noise in the back of his throat when Roxas touches him, not quite a gasp and not quite a shudder-- just a little intake of air that makes Roxas shake with emotion. He breathes in and that lump is still in his throat, choking him and telling him that he needs more. That he needs to tug Axel in as close as possible and never let him go. So Roxas sighs and ghosts his hands up the curve of Axel’s spine so he can fist his hands in the fabric against his shoulderblades.
He’s worried that Axel won’t touch him back. That the need to touch and breathe and hold is just him overreacting, over-encumbered by his new heart. But then Axel breathes out, a whoosh of air that ruffles the curls against Roxas’ left ear, and drapes his arms around Roxas’s shoulders, sliding his hands down Roxas’ back to clutch at the fabric against his shoulderblades, mirroring Roxas’ own hold.
They stay there like that, in the dim light of the TARDIS, and breathe each other in.
.
The aftermath of the hug is the faintest bit awkward. While the room had been choked with emotion at the time, the second they pulled away, things had gotten a bit... awkward. This was uncharted territory, brand new waters, and Roxas didn’t know how deep they ran. His heart wanted to keep touching Axel, possibly forever, and there had been a moment, when Axel had pulled away, his eyes soft and his body relaxed and happy that Roxas thought about kissing him.
He would have, maybe. Probably. But then Axel had cleared his throat and the moment was broken.
Now, Roxas is attempting to show Axel their rooms, pointing out the library, the kitchen, the aether, and the wardrobe as they pass them, trying not to stammer. They’re at Roxas’ room by the time that it occurs to him that maybe Axel won’t want a room with him. They hadn't ever really shared rooms at the castle, just traipsed back and forth between each others quite a lot, and maybe Axel would like a room of his own?
And why had he assumed Axel would be sleeping with him? There had been looks and unspoken promises and countless sunsets, but they’d never shared a bed. Contrary to what Larxene thought, they weren’t really lovers. Not then. Dozens of missed opportunities, but the words had never been spoken.
They shuffle around a bit in the door to Roxas’ room,, awkward and unsure and a little bit scared, and Roxas is just figuring out how to ask if Axel would prefer bunkbeds, separate rooms, or Roxas’ bed when Axel heaves a noise of frustration and angles Roxas’ chin toward him.
His heart doesn’t have time to start pounding before Axel slides their lips together.
.
(Axel’s fine with sharing Roxas’ bed. And his shower. And his teacup.
Axel’s actually okay with sharing a lot of things.)
.
The Doctor wakes them in the morning with a loud knock to the door and a cheerful call of, “Now, I’ve given you two enough time to exchange fluids and bond profoundly. Come down to breakfast. Roxas, you know that the TARDIS makes the best tea for you.”
The footsteps outside of the door suggest that he’s meandering off towards the kitchens, but then they stop, and he calls back worriedly, “And clothed, please! I had enough naked teatime when Jack was around.”
Roxas buries his face in the covers, mortified, and Axel laughs against the back of his neck.
It’s the best morning Roxas has ever had.
.
The planet turns out to be a bust, though they do spend a week or so in jail because Axel reminds the people of some corrupt judge that jumped planet when they caught on to him.
It takes some explaining to get out of prison, and once they do, the planet is in the middle of a revolution which threatens the whole of creation.
So they fix that.
And then they go search another planet.
.
They look and look and look and eventually, it becomes less of them actually looking and more of them trying to save the universe while keeping an eye out for spare hearts.
The thing is, finding a heart is simple. Time is full of hearts- real, fake, plastic, machine- there’s actually a heart in the Gozafon galaxy made entirely of shrapnel- but they're all transplants, meant to fill the void where a failing heart sits.
There are no hearts for the heartless, no starter kit- no way to grow your own heart in 30 days. Human beings function on the assumption that if one is living, one has one’s own heart. Roxas doesn't entirely know what kind of weird pseudo magic encompasses a nobodies existence and makes it possible for their blood to keep rushing without an orifice to pump it along, but it's making things damned difficult right about now.
Roxas shares his heart with Sora. He knows this. Can even feel Sora on the slow days, when they're all reclining about the TARDIS, not thinking about warp stars or wayward space ships, just relaxing-- the Doctor sauntering around the library muttering to himself about pancakes and how they need to visit the 31st century, Axel investigating the bathtub and its many products while Roxas reclines on the chaise a few feet away, flicking the pages of his book and valiantly ignoring Axel’s attempts to both splash him and cajole him into the tub as well.
But Sora is Sora. He’s like a hyperactive rabbit in the back of Roxas’ head, a television channel that he can’t turn off- too far away for the thoughts to be clear, but something there. Something shared. He imagines that it's similar to twins- two embryo separated, but the link remaining.
Lea is dead. Finding Lea- even if they knew what to do with him once they found him--would be too risky.
Sora was a heartless, and Kairi brought him back into the light. Who knows where the heartless that used to be Lea is, if it's even still alive.
He doesn't know.
They don't know.
So they wait, and keep both eyes open.
.
As a distraction, the Doctor makes them go on a vacation.
They take Axel to Paris. Paris in the 1400s, to be precise. The Feast of Fools, the Doctor tells them, is really quite fascinating. Roxas thinks that it's actually rather offensive, but then- well, he knows better than to tell the Doctor that when he's got that look in his eyes.
And okay, mostly he'd agreed to it because it's a good excuse to shove Axel into the Doctor's wardrobe and wrestle him into a jester's outfit, but Roxas isn't telling them that either.
The festival, as it turns out, really is offensive. Oh, at first it holds up to the Doctor's claim of brilliance- the Doctor decks himself out in scarves and earrings and brightly colored outfits that Roxas is positive have seen better days while Roxas manages to find a costume that isn't too grating to the eyes. The bracelets and the headdress jingle a little bit too much, and they annoy the hell out of him, making his arms itch. But when Axel sees him, he grins, huge and happy, so Roxas keeps them and tries not to feel like too big of an idiot.
The festival is also a great excuse to let Axel have a bit of fun. Jester's tricks are laughed at in this era- entertainment rather than a source of fear- and the moment that Axel realizes he can play with fire beneath the hot Parisian sun he gleefully sets his arms alight. The crowd cheers and Axel is grinning, the Doctor whistling beside Roxas as they watch Axel set the air on fire- watch the elaborate loops and how Axel steals a pole from someone and lights both ends with a flick of his wrist. It's like he was born to this- and maybe in some ways he was.
(Roxas remembers the way he'd come to life as a Nobody, ultraviolet light setting the grass on fire, blooming behind his eyes. Roxas had wondered if he was blind before he'd even really known what being blind was. He wonders if it had happened to Axel like that, if Axel had woken up on fire, rising from the ashes like a phoenix.)
It's nice to drink and laugh with the rest of the crowd, to watch people with hideous masks compete for a demeaning crown.
The gypsies are all friendly- perhaps a little bit too friendly considering that the prettiest of them waltzes over to Axel and dances with him amongst the embers, red and glittering skirts hiked up to her thighs, bangles jangling about her person, her smooth cheeks dimpled with laughter.
But things go sour soon enough- the good cheer vanishing, replaced with a storm of anger and hate. It's sad in a way that makes Roxas' new heart burn .
The Doctor is still trying to teach him some complex game when they notice the silence, and Roxas' eyes seek out Axel automatically. He finds him quickly, standing in the square with his teeth clenched together and licks of flame still smoldering along his pale arms- all traces of laughter gone, just anger, so when Roxas sidles up next to him a few minutes later and Axel reaches for his hand, Roxas doesn't hesitate to slip them together.
The crowd is jeering around them, grabbing for rotten fruit and ropes and when they strap the man- the hunchback, to the wheel, Roxas doesn't even want to look at the Doctor.
His fingers itch for the keyblade and maybe the Doctor had smiled at him when they'd arrived, grinning all puppyish but shaking his finger in Roxas' face when he'd said, "Now remember, don't interfere," but it's not normal to stand by and watch. The keyblade is in his hands before he can talk himself out of it, and he's slipping up to the stage- cutting the ropes just as the pretty gypsy woman from before is starting towards them.
He almost doesn't listen to the enraged shouts of the judge or the gypsy woman's hissed words. His heart's pounding in his chest, and he's so sad; he doesn't understand- and then Axel is there. Axel with a sneer for the judge and a cloth to wipe the pulpy insides of rotten fruit from the man's face. The Doctor is somewhere to the right, whispering something to the woman as Axel helps Roxas heft him to his feet. It's hard, see, because the man is heavy, oddly muscled in a way that you wouldn't quite guess.
By now Roxas is used to running, the thrill and fear of it, the thumping of feet against the ground- and when Axel switches places with the gypsy girl, her arms to help Roxas guide the poor guy to safety, he doesn't need the Doctor's hissed "run," to prompt him. He doesn't really get it at first, but then he feels the heat at his back and realizes what it is- a smokescreen to ease their way.
Moments later, Axel is breathing harshly at his side, a smudge of soot dusted across his nose. He grimaces, like there's a bad taste caught in the back of his throat and Roxas lets out a harsh, shuddering breath, listening to their feet on the cobblestone, the slapping of their shoes as they ascend the stairs, anything to distract him.
They come to a stop, Axel pressing close to him, glancing around like some kind of overgrown guard dog while the Doctor fiddles with the Cathedral door, sonic screwdriver humming away in his hands. The girl is scowling at the sky as if it's to blame for all this, and Roxas remembers that not all men are good. A heart they may have, but seldom do they use it.
The girl tries to manage a smile and a faint curtsy when she introduces herself, “Esmeralda,” she says, and the man frowns shyly at the floorboards, dripping rotten food, and stammers out his name.
Later, the Doctor will rave about silly prejudices and both commend and berate Roxas for his interference in less than a sentence. Later they will meet gargoyles that talk and the Doctor will make a terrible noise in the back of his throat and ask them if they plan to kill anyone or perhaps transport them back in time.
They will see the Court of Miracles and watch Paris burn, and throughout it all, Axel will be at his side- even when the world gets its happy ending.
And even when he's grinning up at Axel, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheeks, he still can't get that image of hate out of his head.
Maybe the heartless had it right. Some men don't deserve hearts.
.
Worlds and worlds and worlds and Welcome to Rapture, which really, if he never hears those words again, it will be too soon.
.
It starts mostly because Roxas tends to get left behind with the scientists a lot. Well, it's not that he gets left behind, not exactly- it's just, the Doctor and Axel are both very exuberant individuals, and in the face of their mutual excitement towards the unknown, Roxas doesn't stand a chance. So it's often that with an apologetic kiss (from Axel) and a grinned "Allonsy!" (from the Doctor) he's left behind to mind the humans.
(And really, most of the time, they need a babysitter, like the time in Capua when they thought it would be a good idea to catch the bad guys themselves and left Roxas tied to a chair. The fact that they were eviscerated messily makes Roxas feel a little bit guilty for still being mad about the whole tying up business, but it makes him realize that he has to be on guard at all times.)
(And then there was that other time on Axis III, but he won't even get into that.)
And when you get down to it, it's mostly chance that the first few batches of humans that he's tasked to watch over happen to be the significantly smarter portion of the human race. That first time, while the Doctor and Axel are off trying to convince a giant tortoise with the world on its back to keep the world on its back and he's meandering around the science stations, it comes as something of a shock.
He's tapping the floor with his keyblade when he happens to glance over a nearby scientists shoulder, just to see what they're working on, and well- that was it. Up until then he'd only known about space through the Doctor's rambling and the glimpses of half formed planets out of the TARDIS' window. He hadn't actually known that there were different types of suns, that the surfaces of some planets were uninhabitable.
When Axel and the Doctor get back, he's engrossed in a discussion about dwarf stars with the leading scientist (Professor Blackwell, you can call me Ned) and several of the assistants are pulling up charts and bar graphs and statistics about a new galaxy they'd discovered--
The book that Ned gives him isn't perfect, after all, they're only in the 22nd century, but Roxas hugs it close to his chest and grins all the way back to the TARDIS.
.
It becomes something of a habit, after that- collecting books on astrophysics and all the many and varied theories of relativity and the engineering of space ships- the mechanics of time and the beginnings of that knowledge the Time Lords mastered. There's a book from the 65th century that's almost entirely in early Meso-Xiangese that Roxas gets from a girl that Axel saved from tumorous parasites. He makes the Doctor waste a month teaching him the language, ignoring the offers of, "Roxas, I could just read it to you," because when he picks up the book and starts to read, it's worth all the whining.
Sometimes, when Roxas is curled up on his and Axel's bed with a book and the Doctor's poking about the hallway, the Time Lord will stick his head in the room, take one look at the book Roxas is reading and promptly scoff, saying "Oh please, Norman-Fasco got it all wrong. Let me teach you a little something about dark matter."
This is usually followed by a night long discussion about the universe, and if he's really lucky, the Doctor will get so enthusiastic about it that he'll roll his eyes, extend a hand, and say, "Here, let me just show you."
Roxas will never get over the peculiarity of seeing space out of the TARDIS. It's not quite like those nights that he'd spent watching Sora hiss under his breath and gun down Heartless ships, not at all. Watching a world below you and having the Doctor slowly point out bits of facts and tidbits of information- it's like nothing Roxas has ever known.
And it makes sense. He was born as a Nobody, with the element of light at his side, born smelling of carbon and radiation, feeling the gamma rays and breathing infrared- and then later he was reborn in space- given his heart and his body and the soul that he's mostly sure he still shares a little bit with Sora right here, in this space ship, with this alien. It only makes sense that he'd want to know more.
.
As many adventures as they have, mind-shattering terror and hostage situations and plants that want to get a bit frisky, their trips are always a bit more than the danger. Yes, they're fascinating and brilliant and awe inspiring in a way that is actually impossible to explain, but the little details are the most important to him- like the bubbles clinging to the inside of Axel's wrist and the way that the Doctor has to keep pushing up his glasses whenever he reads over Roxas' shoulder like some kind of school teacher. Like how sometimes the Doctor will yawn and tell Roxas to take over, meandering down the hallways for a bath and leaving Roxas alone with Axel and a purring time machine.
Details- they stick to the insides of Roxas' eyelids like barnacles, something worth remembering.
.
The first time Roxas had tried to implement laundry day, the Doctor had laughed at him. Though, considering the fact that he and Axel had been fully immersed in a debate about whether or not the Time Agency was actually an acceptable career choice at the time, he might have been laughing at Axel.
And then, fourteen (hundred) days later, Roxas had brought it up again. This time it wasn’t just because Roxas was in need of clean underwear and socks, but rather because they’d gotten back from a particularly grueling adventure involving mud monsters, swamps, and pixiedust-happy fairies and the Doctor had just dropped his mud encrusted, pixie dust sprinkled suit in the corner of the TARDIS and left it there.
“You can’t just leave that there! It already smells!”
The Doctor glanced at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised with incredulity. “No it won’t. And anyway- it’ll be clean when I get back.”
Except for how it hadn’t been.
Roxas has a sneaking suspicion that the TARDIS likes to shove all the Doctor’s dank and smelly suits right into the Vortex when he isn’t looking and just makes him new ones instead, because when they do get back, the suit is clean, but it’s also sporting brown pinstripes rather than blue.
What a waste of clothing.
.
Roxas is halfheartedly talking to the TARDIS about their latest expedition, muttering expletives beneath his breath about the natives while occasionally cooing about what a good job the Doctor did at stopping the manmade volcano, when Axel laughs from behind him.
He rolls his eyes and doesn't turn around. He's far from ashamed when it comes to his mostly one-sided conversations with the Doctor's space ship. After all, she's far more intelligent than most humans he's had the pleasure of conversing with.
Another breath and Axel's weight presses up against his back, arms draping over his shoulders like he's some kind of octopus, his breath hot against Roxas' ear when he breathes, "Talking to the ship, Roxas? If you needed company, I wasn't doing much."
Roxas sniffs. "You were sleeping."
"So I was."
"You needed it."
"Not as badly as you do if you're reduced to conversing with a ship."
Roxas finally turns away from the controls so he can grin at Axel over his shoulder. "Be careful," he whispers, "She'll shock you again."
Axel scoffs and flaps a hand dismissively. "Trust me, as long as she doesn't lock me out like she did in Fesmaporia, we're fine."
The TARDIS makes a shrill humming noise and that's all it takes for Axel to look nervous. Roxas laughs.
"You can't exactly blame her, Axel. You set her on fire-"
"It was an accident! It's not my fault that you were withholding the Cheerios like some kind of Cheerio-hoarding tyrant. And anyway," he adds, lowering his voice a fraction, "She's a greedy wretch and she knows it. She wants you all to herself."
"So, let me get this straight," he starts drolly, "you set the console on fire when you were trying to wrestle the cereal away from me, and you're blaming it on the fact that the space ship wants me all to herself."
"No! I set the console on fire because you didn't cave like a normal human being when I brought out the tickling." A pause. "I'm blaming her wanting you all to herself on the fact that she wants you all to herself."
Roxas snorts and taps idly against the small television hidden amongst wiring, peering at the numbers scrawling across it. He's going to ignore that last bit.
"So, if tickling fails, one must resort to fire. Wait, stop- I need to write this down. I'll call it something dreadful like-" he pauses and leans forward a bit to spin the dampener down to seven, "-'Why Axel should never be trusted with small children.'" Axel makes a noise behind him, something like a protest and Roxas has to grin, wriggling back and rubbing up against Axel's front. The noise of protest fades.
Roxas brightens. "I'll even publish it! I'm sure the Doctor has contacts somewhere. That way I'm not the only one who knows how to babysit you."
Axel growls a bit and tugs Roxas' ear between his teeth, sudden, grinding up against Roxas almost helplessly. "Maybe I like it that you're the only one who knows how to babysit me," he purrs, lips brushing up against Roxas' neck in short, little kisses.
Roxas laughs again, and his heart feels a bit like soaring, like if he had pixie dust he'd be hovering right here and now, in the control room of the TARDIS with Axel all over him. "Age kink now? Jeez, Axel, I don't really know if I'm into that."
He turns, because it's impossible not to- with Axel right there, pupils blown wide and a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.
Roxas had learned quickly that being in love with a fully functional heart in his chest is a little overwhelming, his breath coming short and emotion clogging up his throat, feelings pounding along to the tempo of his heart. Exhilaration, joy, longing, want, want, want-
And the feeling doesn’t go away. Every kiss feels like that- every hug, cuddle, grope, and fuck feels like something impossible, something out of fairytales.
When Axel pulls back, his smile has lost all the sharp edges, softening so much that it's reached his eyes- making them crinkle at the corners. Roxas wants to drag them back into their room and kiss him senseless, maybe forget to be quiet for once and laugh about how red the Doctor will go when he sees them next.
But the Doctor is tired, and Roxas has a ship to pilot.
He grins at Axel.
"So, want me to teach you how to drive?" he asks and relishes in the way his heart flutters when Axel lights up.
Part 2