A fic I wrote a good long while ago that I never got round to posting, back when I was on manga 4/5 and was still all excited by the appearance of the anime. Sakura was still dancing around in my head see Patchwork Heart


A little AU for the ending. I don't have a clue where CLAMP are going with all this (I' only up to manga 12 in the UK) so this was an old idea.

Reviews and comments would be most welcome. :o)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Tsubasa in any way. I just play with them. CLAMP however do, so much huggage to them!

Picking Up The Pieces

By Just Akiko

We finished, eventually; we returned home, but still the puzzle was missing some pieces. The game was over but the bonuses hadn't all been won. My memory, no matter how hard we tried, would never be the same again

We'd travelled long and worked hard for months; passing through centuries' worth of time in less than one of our years. My newfound family gave me all they had, despite having given up enough already, and it was they who cried hardest when in the end it wasn't enough. I had, after all, become something of a mascot for them, the hope they clung too; as if by fixing my memory they could mend the problems they were running from too. But it wasn't to be.

I wandered through countless worlds with them by my side, many of which had no trace of my memory whatsoever. That sharp edge of grey, of the forgotten, clung to me throughout and became darker and more vivid as each new fragment of memory fell in to place. I felt my heart sink; I saw his eyes burn with anger and I watched helplessly each time a feather was destroyed cruelly before our eyes.

Those memories are never coming back.

But we came back. All four of us; and now I rest here, in a palace I remember but that still holds doors I've never seen. My brother, the King, treats me as he always has and never falters when I stare blankly at some well-known family fact. Yukito-san is still here by my brother's side, as I knew he would be, and his eyes are often sad when cast my way; I wonder if he's able to see, with the immense power he holds, the tiny holes that still litter this person they call Princess.

But I won't worry, I've done enough of that in the past and so I rest, my mind is mostly whole and the strength it has returned to me a good consolation prize. The darkness remains, I still have gaps; I will never again remember my 8th birthday party or the colour of my long-dead mother's hair.

And yet I am not crying.

I'm filling these gaps with patches of new thought, memories I've created fresh with my new family. A cheeky smile; a frustrated growl, "Mokona is Mokona!"

And I will never know just who It is I am unable to remember; that swirl of air I talk to in my deepest dreams, as if it were alive. I won't be able to tell just which face it was that made my heart stop and my cheeks blush brightly, and so I apologise to them every night for replacing their features with those of another. But he is my memory now; he's found a place in my heart. I'm fighting the darkness with his amber eyes and that shy smile that warms me all over. I'm grafting over the empty space in the seat next to mine with the feel of his strong arms around me and I'm allowing a stranger's kiss, his nervous press of lips, to give me strength; to make me whole.

Somehow it feels as if he's been there all along.

Thanks for reading! Do let me know what you think with a review.