Title: Hi-Dad Soup

Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten)

Notes: Well, once again a drabble turned into something much longer. A small divergence from canon, because Max was never mentioned in KH. Max, if you don't know, is Goofy's only son from "A Goofy Movie" and the "Goof Troop" series. The last line will probably not make sense unless you've seen a Goofy Movie, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless. Reviews are always welcome!

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its characters. I don't claim to own them.

Max Goof had been able to adjust to many things in his life.

Well, he'd been forced to adjust to them, actually, and it was something which he constantly drilled into the heads of everyone around him. He didn't want his mother to die – he couldn't remember her, but still – and he certainly didn't want his father to move them into the Disney Castle afterwards, to be closer to the King and Queen and who-knows-what-other-reason. And the last thing he wanted was for his dad to go off into the Worlds to fight – he didn't know exactly what they were doing, but his dad was no warrior, no fighter, no knight-in-shining armor to whoever was living out there.

The Queen always kept him updated when she could. She told him of people named Sora and Riku and described grotesque beings called Heartless from behind a politely held teacup, and reminded him that everything was going to be okay.

But it wasn't going to be okay, and it just wasn't fair.

He was alone. Again. Because of people he didn't know and things he didn't understand, things he didn't even want to understand. He'd taken to avoiding the Queen as much as he could, lest she tell him about such-and-such a battle or some gross demon that his dad was going to have to fight.

But early that morning, he'd been walking by the throne room and found himself shock-still and listening to a private conversation between the Queen and Lady Daisy. He wasn't sure where Hollow Bastion was, or who the Organization might be, but they were apparently responsible for an infestation of Heartless in the area. And his dad was going to be there. With Sora and Donald, and maybe the King, but the thought of his dad having to fight off thousands of the creatures made him ill.

He tried not to think about it. He really did. He tried to push the image of one of those things attacking his dad and taking his heart away – although he still wasn't one-hundred percent sure how someone's heart could be taken, but to dwell on that would mean he'd have to dwell on the battle that was happening at that moment.

And he tried not sleep. Really, he did. He pilfered coffee from the royal kitchen and hid with a flashlight under the covers, reading comic books and motorcycle magazines until his brain was screaming for a rest. When he gave up on not-sleeping, he vowed that he wouldn't dream. He couldn't dream, because

there was no doubt in his mind that his brain would not recount the day's events by letting him dream of motorcycles and flying superheroes.

The nightmares came like dark vines, hissing across his bed sheets and snaking their way around his heart. They pressed daggers into his blue-sea, sunny-sky dreams until they gave way to images of blood and swords and shields, and Donald and that faceless boy and his dad. And his dad. They whispered smiling death-prose into his ears until he clawed at the sheets and screamed so loudly that it called a bleary-eyed and shaken Queen Minnie into his room.

"Max?"

She sat on the edge of his bed and held a hand gently on his shoulder.

It was the first time he had given so much as a hint that he was feeling troubled, and his hint had come in the form of an ear-shattering shriek in a nightmare.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"My… dad," he said, the words barely above a whisper. He looked behind her, at a picture of his father propped on the dresser top. "He's dead."

Minnie tsked softly and smoothed back some of his hair. "Now, now, there'll be none of that talk. I'm sure he's fine. He's very strong, you know."

Max swallowed. "But my dream…" He winced as the vivid image of his father sprawled on some foreign ground, absolutely still in death, flashed in his mind. "It couldn't have been just a dream, it was so real…"

Minnie smiled grimly and resumed stroking his forehead. "The Darkness wants us to believe our nightmares are real. It knows this will make our hearts weaker and easier for the taking. But," and she smiled a bit brighter, "the Darkness doesn't count on us having people to turn to. Family, friends, people who love us very dearly and want to protect us. People who... well, who will risk everything to pull us out of the Darkness' hold and help us to see the light again."

Max felt some of his terror ebbing away, being pushed aside by her soft hand and her softer, lulling voice. It reminded him of a mom. In some ways, he saw her as a mother - not his mother, but a mother nonetheless. She was kind to him, even when he was sulking and saying everything but "I-hate-you-and-want-to-go-home," and she certainly didn't hesitate to ground him for breaking his curfew. Well, he could do without that last part, but he supposed it came with the whole "mother" package.

"So you'd… risk everything just to save me?"

"Yes, of course! And I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

He nodded, and curled a bit on his side. "It's why my dad's fighting, right? To pull people out of the Darkness or... whatever?"

"Mm-hmm. Except Goofy's not just fighting for you, or for me... he's fighting to save the world. All the Worlds, Max. But..." she paused, possibly noticing his drooping eyelids and deciding not to press the matter. She pulled the blanket until it covered his shoulders – had he been shivering? – and ran a hand protectively across his forehead. "Will you be all right by yourself now?"

He nodded and unconsciously snuggled deeper into the covers. "Yeah, I'm fine. And, um, Minnie? … thanks."

She smiled once more before crossing the doorway, leaving it open just enough so that a beam of light shone through. The light filtered through to land – and Max couldn't decide whether or not it was intentional – on his sole picture of his dad, dressed in raggedy fishing gear and proudly holding up a catch that hadn't been much bigger than the bait he used.

Max focused on this small light in the darkness until he fell back into sleep, dreaming of camping trips and Big Foot and a shared can of Hi-Dad soup.