Summary: AU. A mature, strange philosopher with a failing marriage seeks the help of a young, curious healer. Fate has its curious ways. ET.

POV: first person, alternating between Tomoyo and Eriol every chapter.

Genres: drama, romance, angst, hurt/comfort.

Usual disclaimers apply.

My National Novel Writing Month 2007 work, until chapter 11. NaNoWriMo is basically where someone attempts to write a 100k words novel in a month. I started for 11 days (a chapter a day) and obviously didn't finish. The story was inspired by Tomoyo and Eriol, two of my favorite characters of all time but in the original story, they were called Madison Liang and Christopher Whiting (I also renamed Kaho Mizuki as Kate Moreau). But don't worry, in this version, I've kept the original names from the manga/anime. The AU parallels the universe of CSS. The story is slow moving but I don't think that it's long. However, since it was for NaNoWriMo, I tried to boost up the word count so there is enough description. It's very lightly edited because I am lazy.

Enjoy and review!

My Dearest Morphine

Chapter 1: Predestination

I've discovered that there are three kinds of people: those who inflict pain, those who receive it, and those who remove it. Most people fluctuate among these categories day to day without realizing it. However, some are simply stuck in a flat state of life. I was one of them.

To others, it was a gift. They've given me more nicknames that I can remember. The Savior. The Sin Cleanser. But most of all, I was known as the Healer. Maybe it was because I've suffered so much when I was little that I can understand any pain. But others tell me that it's the way I smile, the strange healing power of my touch, and the mysterious magic in the atmosphere of my office. Honestly, there is nothing magical about me; it is just the way I am and I never expected anything to change.

"You seem very nervous, Rena," I murmured to my last patient of the day. "Don't worry. Anything that you'll say will help me understand your situation. Only then can I make you feel better."

She was older than me but seemed so innocent as she retracted from all physical contact. Whenever she spoke, she would debate on the words and cower away every time. In the end, every session turned into time for meditation as she clung to my hand. It was customary for a patient to hold on my hand but she held it as if it was the only thing that prevented her from falling – and sadly, maybe it was true. I had not heard her speak once. She could not even say her name out loud the first time I met her.

"Rena," I began as I gestured for her to look at me, "you don't have to say anything now. But I need to know what's wrong," she nodded as I gave her a sympathetic but non-pitiful look, "this is our third session and although I know it is very hard for you to recount everything, I know that you are capable of sharing your thoughts. Perhaps you would be more comfortable telling me bit by bit."

I turned around and with my free hand grabbed a recorder off my desk. "This is for whenever you are ready. No pressure."

She gave my hand a soft squeeze in understanding; it was our method of communicating. But this time, she opened her mouth and closed her eyes.

"Thank you."

It seemed like a whisper, a silent voice caught in a web of fear that was finally unleashed. Her voice cracked on the last syllable as if she had not spoken for an eternity.

Finally, she had taken a step towards recovery.

"No, thank you for coming to me. I wish that I could help you more quickly but time will also help you heal."

She did not attempt to say another word and I understood perfectly. "Goodbye then."

The door clicked softly as she walked out. Everything was back to quiet again. It was a quiet Friday afternoon, after a tiring week filled with emotional distress. The gentle rays of light from the setting sun shone through the half-transparent curtains and fell on the antique books on the table. The room was decorated in warm tones; every piece was composed of shades of gold, brown and reds, a prefect combination for a comforting discussion.

Unfortunately, the silence was broken as the door clicked again.

"Rena, did you forget anything?" I asked before looking up. But as I saw the shadow on the carpeted floor, I recognized a different silhouette. A man's silhouette. "I've already seen my last patient," I quickly corrected myself.

"Are you Tomoyo Daidouji?" a rough but soothing accented voice asked.

"Yes—"

"Please, I've heard that you've never turned down anyone in need before."

"Indeed, I have not."

Casually, I finally looked at his face. His very… unusual face. He seemed so out of place, as if he belonged in another century, perhaps in the seventeenth century. His expensive suit was worn out, his shoes unpolished for years, and his long black hair roughly tied with a blood red ribbon.

"I would appreciate it if you could just make an appointment for Monday. A full session right now would tire me out even more," I offered, rather uncharacteristically rudely of me. Perhaps I was annoyed at the way he rushed in, the way he looked desperately yet condescendingly at me, and the way he didn't seem apologetic at all.

"Sunday would be good," he retorted immediately.

Excuse me?

"I take time off for myself on the weekends. My work presses a lot of emotional burden on me. The least that I can ask for my charity work is a bit of peaceful repose," I argued back in my usual gentle and logical tone. It was true that I did all of my work for free. The consultations, the long hours of silence where I sat with my patients, were all services that I willingly gave. But somehow, I always found donations in my mailbox after each patient is healed after another. Those little envelopes with checks and gift cards built my pride in my healing abilities. I didn't consider it greedy of me since the motives were pure. I had to live off something after all.

"I understand," he assured, "but I can pay you. I can pay you more than you would make in a year in those donations that you receive."

"So you are familiar with my ways?" I asked rhetorically. "I'm sorry, but I do not sell my services to anyone."

"Please," he began as he looked down at the floor, as if he was ashamed of what he had to say next, "I beg you. I know that you heal pain easily. If you do not help me, you would be inflicting pain on me and I know that you do not want that."

I bit my lower lip roughly and frowned. Why did this man sound so insincere even when he is begging? But he did indeed know my ways. I would never want to inflict pain on anyone. That was my weakness. I cherished my reputation as healer above anything else.

"Fine," I muttered. His face immediately lit up. "But you will not pay me until I heal you of your pains." I was, of course, always loyal to my fashion of work.

"Are you sure you can wait that long? You might have to delay your other patients' appointments for my case. This has been a 5-years long case," he stated flatly and proudly as if I was supposed to accommodate that for him.

"I'm sure that I will manage with my usual matters," I shot back. "So, you will come here again this Sunday?"

"No."

I frowned at him once again. Why does he think he is so special?

"You will need to come to my mansion. It feels claustrophobic in this room."

Before I could retort with anything clever as he insulted my comfortable office, he handed me a fancy business card with golden inscriptions.

"I will see you then," he added before giving me a true thankful smile and walking away.

And I have to admit, for that one second when he truly smiled, he looked like one of the most handsome man in the world, a worn-out handsome man but still good looking. I wondered, what kind of pains would such a man have? He seemed to be the worriless kind who flaunts his fortune and pride in everyone's face.

I moved the card closer to my eyes and used the last rays of the sunset to see the golden script.

Eriol Hiiragizawa.

Somehow, the name seemed familiar.

Author's Notes: I know that the verb tenses are messed up, haha, but I hope that you won't mind.

Please review, or else, you'll never know the ending of the story, hehe.