Sunlight On A Broken Column

Standard disclaimers apply.

Summary: AU, Crossover This, above all, is a love story. He was the amnesiac boy with the haunted, haunting smile. She was his Shoshanna, his Juliet. And she was not real. Namixas and eventual Roxas/Yue.

. . .

the silver room and the dead moon

a prologue

. . .

He woke up not in his reality, but in his dream. Stars faded in his sight, melting like candles. Memories danced in between them, just as evanescent. And the lonely, burning moon watched from overhead, before the eclipse. Then, as always, he would find himself in the silver room; where his moon was dead, where the stars did not fade and where memory was not even a word he spoke and understood.

It was not sleep. He was not an insomniac. He lived in his dream, where he was the hero and his maiden was with him on his beautiful ship. Sometimes, he was close to waking up. The silver people would pierce him and they would make him feel not like himself. Then they would force jagged edges of glass down his throat, bitter and dry like the reality he chose to wash away.

And the moon would pull the tide away from him. Flow and ebb. Flow and ebb.

"Who are you?" He asked, averting his gaze from the moon that glittered and glistened in the blanket of darkness, "Who am…I?"

The moon opened a sliver of its mouth, as if it would reply, then quickly closed it again. The moon had no right to answer his questions, after all, because he woke up in his dream and not in his reality. But it did not want to fail the little boy who had visited it ever since he opened the door to The Silver Room, so the moon extended its dusty arms and gave the boy a silver bowl woven from the clouds.

"Look and tell me what you see," it whispered, "Look and tell me what you see, boy."

And so he looked, gazed, got lost into the swirling depths of the sparkling liquid. He could not see anything except for the nebulous shadow of the moon above him. The shadow then morphed into pieces of glass which hurled themselves at the boy.

"Roxas," they screeched, "Roxas, come back!"

He ran before the pieces could say any more. He knew he was much, much faster than they were, yet the boy—was Roxas his name?—could not shake off the feeling that they were still watching him. Above him, the moon dipped itself in blood. Roxas shivered as this moon—a different moon, he assured himself—grinned at him. It was frightening and he missed the other moon who gave him bowls of liquid and wisdom. He wanted to run away from the Silver Room and go into rooms where no moons gave him bowls of glass shards. He wanted the dreams and the candles and the wax melting on his fingers.

But there was a small part of him that wanted to go back. Back to the Silver Room where he wanted to follow the shards of glass, wanted to swallow them.

NO!

How could he want such torture? There were other rooms, surely.

Roxas wasn't sure.

He felt scared and lost and stupid.

Why did he leave The Silver Room?

WHY? TELL ME THE ANSWER!

You want the truth, boy?

Leave me alone!

I thought you wanted answers.

NOT FROM YOU!

From who, then?

There are others…right?

Maybe, maybe not.

Tell me! Am I going insane?

TELL ME!

OH LORD TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME! I WANT TO WAKE UP OH LORD WAKE UP!

Do you? Do you, really?

ANSWER ME, ANSWER ME!

I cannot. Only you can answer your questions.

. . .

"How is he?"

"I'm afraid his condition is much, much worse."

"C-Can we s-save him?"

"We can try."

"I don't want to try! I want definite results!"

"Please calm down. We are doing the best we can."

"Doing the best you can! You even forgot about him until I reminded you!"

"Please, we're doing what we can to save him. It takes time."

"ROXAS IS GONE FROM THIS WORLD, STUPID BUTTHEAD! DON'T TELL ME THAT IT TAKES TIME TO SAVE HIM!"

"Calm down, please. Sir, could you tell her to cal—"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN UNTIL YOU CAN TELL ME THAT HE'S SAVED!"

"Please, sir, take her away. We are doing the best we can for Mr. Roxas right now."

"Shut up, shut up!"

"Sir, please!"

"Namine, come now. You can visit your friend another time."

"LET ME GO, CLOUD! I SWEAR I'LL—"

"You'll what, Namine, what?"

"JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME GO!"

"Fine."

"Sir, please, take your daughter—"

"She's not my daughter."

"Sir, please, whatever she is, just take her. The others are getting irked and listless by her behavior…"

"Namine, come now!"

"Shut up, Cloud, just shut up! I will not leave him until he wakes up!"

"Namine! He will never wake up! NEVER!"

"…What?"

"Let's just go, Namine, let's just go. We'll talk about this…soon."

"But…!"

"No buts, let's just go."

He'll never wake up?

. . .

Roxas felt them. Who were they, he didn't know, but he felt them and that was all that mattered. There were people who wanted him away from the Silver Room and they would do anything to get him out. He didn't know if he should be ecstatic or lugubrious. Perhaps a little of both…

Hey, moon. You there?

Maybe, maybe not.

There are people who want me to go out of the Silver Room.

Should I leave?

Should I?

Should you?

Don't play games with me.

Don't play games with ME.

Sorry, moon.

That's better.

Should I leave?

Maybe, maybe not.