Warnings: Probably AU Deep Dive Timeline, so if there are spoilers here, it's not my fault.

He only woke because his nose had hit the table unceremoniously and with a loud thunk.

"Ah! Damn table!"

And his nose only hit the smooth counter because the man with the oiled black mustache curved up at the thinning ends had bowled over his arms with a dirty and yellow-tinted washrag with frayed edges. The thing was old and thread-bare, stained a countless number of times and threatening to decompose into strings. With one swing, the solid, polished and wooden surface had been swept from underneath his elbows, and his head, half awake and half not, came plummeting down because his palms had been cradling it.

Vengeful and nursing his indignant face, Sora lifted his endless eyes and mustered what was left of his composure into a half-hearted leer, which he shot balefully at the uniformed and pudgy back. In response, the oblivious barkeeper hummed his way up the aisle and passed a thick glass mug filled with frothing liquid to the next customer, who sat one seat, two feet and seven inches away.

Sora was still rubbing the bridge of his nose when he heard the soft chuckle. The sound was so familiar and so foreign in the dreary world behind the Door that he lifted his head immediately, his chin and his eyes snapping up with blind fervor. It had been beautiful, because it hadn't been of cynicism, sarcasm or bitterness, but of amusement and a small degree of joy.

Sora had not heard someone laugh for a very long time.

Yet the culprit was gone or hidden, for all he could see was the same dimly lit tavern, filled with the same drunk and restless people mumbling the same nonsense. The same stale, humid air that smelled of alcohol, of sweat, of rain seeped through his clothes and against his clammy skin. It was still storming outside, pouring as if the sky wept, and the same second customer sat one seat away, raising the mug to his lips and sipping quietly.

Hopes dashed and stripped momentarily bare of his sunny disposition, he leaned across the table again, folding his arms and burying his face. He was still wet, having come in from the downpour, and the moist air did nothing to improve his condition. He was a little cold and more than a little uncomfortable. Drowsiness was creeping up his eyes, dragging his eyelids down.

"Stupid rain," he mumbled.

Distantly, he heard the rumble of glass sliding against polish and looked up just in time to catch the sailing cup before it slid on to the floor. Pale and smooth forehead creasing with confusion, he said to the man behind the counter, "I didn't order anything."

"I know you didn't, lad. But that 'un over there said to give it to you, and he paid," was the uncaring reply, spoken while pouring crimson liquor into another mug. "If you don't want it, give it back to 'im."

Sora turned and stared intently at the person sitting two feet and seven inches away.

Before he could open his mouth, the man said from beneath his dark hood, "Take it. You need it. You look like you're going to shrivel there and just die. It'll warm you a little, but it's your own fault you didn't get out of the rain quickly enough." His voice was deep, almost too rich, unfamiliar and yet like a memory. "Anyway, it's free and not poisoned."

Who was this stranger, reproving him of staying out in foul weather? Angrily, Sora shoved the mug across the table again with a fuzzy thrum. The stranger caught it swiftly and without even turning his head, as if he expected such an action. "Thanks but no thanks," he replied. "I can take care of myself just fine and I don't need help from strangers like you. I'll order my own."

Like the sound of wheels, the glass glided back like a swan – graceful because it had not spilled a single drop in its voyage – and came to a stop against his wrist. "Take it," the man repeated firmly but not unkindly, "with the way you look, you could use more than one glass."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sora retorted, passing the drink back. They played catch a few more times, before the stranger caught it firmly by its handle.

The man had not turned his face once. In fact, he was so still he seemed like a statue amongst a crowd of sluggishly moving people. Only the throw of his arm and the slight movement of his mouth broke the lifeless image. "It looks," he said, returning the glass one last time, "like you desperately need to get drunk right now."

Sora stared down at the inviting swirl of white and cream.

"Yes, by the way, it's that obvious."

Like a fish, his mouth opened and closed, but words failed him. Stubbornly, he spat out a muffled 'thank you' from between gritted teeth and cupped the glass with both his hands. The liquid was lukewarm, but sent a small fire down his throat as he swallowed. He laughed humorlessly and pushed it away. "You're crazy. People can't look like they need to get drunk. That's stupid. Plus, I know I shouldn't get drunk."

The man chuckled, emitting the same awe-striking sound as before. Sora, his heart lonely and heavy, would have gulped a thousand cups of pure alcohol then and there, if he could hear it again. "Sure, but I know you want to." [1]

Something caught irregularly in his chest. It was rough and dry, as if cold and sandpaper fingers had grasped his heart with painful desperation and tried to bring it spiraling down. Pulling, grasping and gripping, tearing the tender thing with harsh and unforgiving nails. For a moment, he didn't dare breathe. And after that moment, he let out a hot rush of air from his protesting lungs. "You," he said suspiciously, "you sound really familiar."

"Really?" said the man from behind his hood, not quite skeptical but not quite believing. "Isn't that interesting? I've never met you before."

"Yes." Sora wavered. "Yes. You sound like…someone I once knew."

For a strange and mysterious second, the stranger was completely still like stone and granite. Sora watched with unexplainable fascination as the black-gloved hand tightened convulsively around the stranger's own glass so tightly he thought it would shatter. "That's pretty funny," answered the man with a voice so low it was almost inaudible, "come to think of it, you sound like someone I once knew too, but that was a long time ago."

There was a pause, in which neither said a word.

"But you're not him," reassured the man, the drink-buyer sitting one seat, two feet and seven inches away. He was reassuring Sora, but seemed to be calmed himself. "You're not because he doesn't live here anymore."

"Gone away?" Sora whispered fearfully. "Or taken by the heartless?"

"Away," the man replied distantly. "Far, far away."

Without noticing, a sigh of relief at something he didn't quite know escaped Sora's mouth. He fingered the glass handle of his own cup gingerly, but had not touched its contents since the first taste. "Oh," said he, "I'm sorry about that. But if it makes you feel any better, I don't know where my friend is either. I'll find him though, I'm sure of that."

"Even if it takes a thousand years?" The man had not touched his drink either.

Sora blinked, unable to decipher this answer. Nevertheless, the reply he gave was solid and true. It was only hesitant because it had never occurred to his bright thinking that it would ever take that long. "Yes," he nodded. "Even if it takes a thousand, a million, a billion years."

Something in the air changed, for it suddenly grew less uncomfortable. "That's a long time to search. Whoever you're looking for must be pretty important, if you're that loyal." The stranger turned his head slightly for the first time, and Sora saw that his profile was lean and sharp and accented, smooth and almost as if sculpted from a piece of flawless marble. The mouth moved slowly with its haunting voice. "Then again, you always looked like the faithful type."

"It's a long time to search." Sora said softly, delicately, tearing his eyes away and looking to the floor, measuring with his eyes the two feet and seven inches and how quickly he could reduce that distance. "But it's even a longer time to wait, so even if for nothing else, I have to find him, to at least apologize for making him wait that long."

A pause.

"Why are you talking to a stranger, Sora?"

The boy, for he really wasn't anything else yet, smiled. Bingo. One inch, five, a foot and three – he slid off his rotating stool and crossed the small but empty space. The not quite stranger turned and peered at him from beneath a lowered hood that cast shadows on the pale face. Yet even behind that, Sora could feel the eyes of someone long lost staring intently at him, waiting and waiting like they had done for a long time.

He didn't notice his hands were shaking until he lifted them. Even so, he used his trembling fingers and pinched the rim of the hood, taking a firm hold of the leather-like material before slipping it back and down. Before the silver head was revealed, he said, "Because you're not really a stranger, are you?"

"Depends. You don't really know me anymore."

"Sure I do. You're still the person I'm looking for. Or was looking for, at least."

"I thought I told you to stay put," came a broken and accusing whisper as light as the wind. "I thought I told you to stay there, on the other side, and take care of her."

"She's alright." Slowly and surely Sora began to smile. He knew he shouldn't, since he supposed it was a serious moment, but he couldn't stop it. Instead, he looked at the table guiltily, trying to hide his upturn of lips. "I know she's alright, just like she knows I'm alright. We're connected, because she's the princess and I have the keyblade. We're alright."

"Both of you? Alright?"

"Yeah," said Sora. "Both of us are alright."

Sora was contagious, always was, always will be. The not-quite stranger that was sitting not-quite two feet and seven inches away anymore began to grin. "You idiot. You goddamn stupid idiot. I told you to stay; can't you keep yourself in once place for five minutes? Can't you follow instructions as simple as that?"

With that smile that could turn worlds upside down and people on to their heads, the keyblade wielder said, "It was a lot more than five minutes, Riku."

The elder's eyes grew dim, recalling something before with heart-wrenching pain. "Yes." He said softly, his fingers still. He never played with the hem of his sleeves, always too confident, always too proud even when confidence and pride had abandoned him in the depths of the dark. "Yeah, it's been a lot longer than that, but you shouldn't have come."

Sora's eyes widened. "What?"

Instead, the eyes that looked like the sea left his face and wandered up to where his forehead was obscured by messy and haphazard bangs. "You shouldn't have come, things are too dark here for someone like you. It'll crush you. Look at that, your forehead's hardly wrinkled, it's not that easy anymore, and you can't think it's that easy anymore."

Sora's smile faded, replaced by a set look of solid and hard-headed determination. He gripped his friend by his shoulders and gave him a firm shake. "Riku, that's a stupid thing to say. I've lasted this long already, looking for you and without Donald and Goofy too. It's not easy now, but it's never been. Even back then, on the other side, it's never been easy. I don't expect it to start easing up soon. I'm not going to lose." He took a step back. "I can take care of myself, remember?"

Riku looked once at Sora's drenched coat.

"Except for that."

"So you're sure you can hold out here? Still so confident?"

The barkeeper looked over his shoulder from the other side of the tavern, wondering what in God's name these children were talking about – nonsense about other worlds and princesses, keys and different sides of doors. He soon lost interest however, and returned to drying the cups that soaked in the sink filled with soap water and dirty glass. It wasn't really his business anyway, and there really were so many things to dry and wash, and that old man with a stubble on his chin was now calling for another drink even if he had drank too many…and wondering about strangers' business wasn't in his line of work.

With a nod, Sora said, "As confident as I ever was."

"Too confident."

He scowled.

"We're not just going to leave, are we?" Riku asked, ignoring the younger of the two's reaction with amusement. His eyes were brighter, Sora noticed, now that there were no shadows and no hood concealing them. "We're going to deal with things here, aren't we?"

"Way ahead of you there. I already decided that while looking for you."

"Oh?" answered the other, aloof. "So finding me was just an added bonus?"

When there came no sound from the brown-haired boy, Riku raised his eyes. Sora's face was unreadable, maybe because there was no emotion in it, or more likely because there were too many emotions in it at one time. The azure eyes were dark and cloudy but terribly, terribly soft. Still, the boy that was almost a man failed to reply. The silence was unnerving. "Sora?" he asked shakily. He was usually the one who started silences, not the one who ended them. "Sora, what's wrong with you?"

"I knew I'd find you."

Riku managed to untie his tongue enough to say, "What?"

"Because you threw that paopu fruit to me. We didn't eat it, but it was still sharing," he explained. "I can't lose you, or Kairi. The three of us, we're tied together."

Eyes widening, and then closing, the not-quite quite stranger nodded. "Yeah...I suppose that's right."

"And I really missed you."

Riku stared at the floor intently. "That's…hard to imagine." Catching sight of the confusion spread across Sora's face, for that round face was always as readable as a book, he smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "Aren't you mad at me, I mean? For all that, before, on the other side. Actually, I know you've forgiven me, but I can't help but think…are you sure? Don't you realize what I almost did to you and to Kairi back there? This isn't a pity trip, or something stupid and dumb like that, but…"

"You thought I was going to be angry with you?"

He let out a chuckle unlike the ones previous, for there was no sense of joy whatsoever in the sound. It was a rather ugly sound. Sora's face twisted at hearing it. "Well, what do you think, dimwit? I almost killed you, that's all."

"Well, you're wrong," said the wielder of the key with such finality that the petty controversy dropped and ended right there with no line to dangle from. When he said he was sure, he was definitely sure and left no room for further conversation. Though Riku felt the need to protest, a trademark smile that flashed its way to him assured him that any sins, past or present, would be looked over and forgiven in the case of a true friend named Sora.

"You're much too confident in yourself." Riku chided half-heartedly.

"You're stupid." Sora smiled as surprise washed over his friend's pale features. "Stupid for thinking such stupid things. In fact, I don't think you were even thinking."

At that moment, Riku felt so unbelievably grateful, sitting in front of this standing boy who radiated light and strength and undying friendship. He could hardly even remember, so many years ago (or had it been decades?) why he had ever thought this boy would betray him. He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat stripped of his voice and coughed instead to fill the gap.

Sora smiled and remained silent.

After a while, "Is that the best you can do, Sora?" Riku laughed. "It's a pretty weak insult you got there. I thought that since you're older now, that your kind of vocabulary would at least increase a bit more than the 'you're stupid' range."

"Oh, haha. Oh catch me, I'm going to die laughing." The other deadpanned.

Then, Sora stepped back and there were two feet and seven inches between them again. He held out an open, inviting hand and to Riku the stance looked strangely familiar as if it were part of his memory long past. Though when he recalled it, it seemed much colder than it was now. Immediately, he clasped his hand around the open palm. They were tied together; after all, the three of them, and no one would be lost.

"It stinks here." Sora stated bluntly. "And it's stopped raining. Let's go."

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter."

"And the drinks?"

"Screw the drinks."

"Oh, easy for you to say. I'm the one who paid for them."

They walked side by side, no one following and no one leading, weaving between drunkards and gamblers, out into the open and pitch-black night. There was no moon, for there was never a moon on this side. The streets were not yet empty, for as long as the stores didn't close there was still light and as long as there was light there was no darkness. For a long time they ambled with nowhere to go and nowhere to run.

But it was enough.

"It's pointless right now to say that stupid, 'I'm sorry' line, isn't it?" Riku asked.

"Yeah, "said Sora, "It is." And they walked.

[1] I think Riku said something similar on Destiny Islands, about Kairi and the fruit?