Disclaimer: I don't own Clover. CLAMP does. I don't own "Paint it Black", either; that's the Rolling Stones'. Everything else in here is mine.
The lyrics for "Paint it Black" here may be incorrect; I was listening to the song on a whim and wrote them down as I heard them, not from any official lyrics. Any errors are solely mine.
To be born again for your sake
Blowing the past away on fluttering clouds,
Letting the future ride on flowing winds;
Fearlessly, unceasingly, patiently
To be born again in your arms
To be born again for my sake;
Once again to wait to be born in a golden egg;
Once again to be able to fly with silver wings;
Rebirth. To be reborn, remade. Starting anew. Ending the past, and building something new and revitalized from the rubble. Beginning a new life. But C cannot begin a new life, because he has never ended the old, and he cannot begin a new life because he waits for the old one to end.
Rebirth is a joke, for Clovers, when your power is greater than that of a god who has abandoned the earth.
one shot: rebirth
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He had a new name: Ran. He had a new body, the product of accelerated aging, that was pale and slim and disturbingly beautiful. Perhaps he is already reborn, but how can you tell? What is rebirth if your new life ends in a matter of shallow years? There is still a dark place in him, cold and whispery, and yet at the same time, full of reassuring love. His twin. His other self. That part never changed.
What is rebirth when you are still yourself and someone else? He cannot be reborn until he is separate. Will this happen when he dies? Will A die with him? But he doesn't want A to die. Does he? If A's death meant his rebirth and freedom…? These are the things that C wonders. Ran wonders them too.
Death itself is not rebirth. He tried that once before, the day the four-leaf died. Gingetsu stopped him, took the knife away. It was stupidly simple, death by knife. But it was the only way he could have ended it, since using magic would have caused trouble. He didn't want that. Three and Two makes Five.
A knew, when the knife eased up against the pale skin on his wrist and the translucent blue veins underneath.
Do you love me still?
Yes. Forever.
Then don't do this, C.
I love you.
C! Stop this! Don't break your promise. You can't escape me through death.
I want to try.
That was when Gingetsu came, silently, and took the knife from his hands. He did not resist; what was the point? Gingetsu did not reprimand him; what was the point? He did not say, you don't want to leave your brother behind, do you? Nor did he say, don't kill yourself- I love you. He hadn't really decided how he'd wanted to do it, anyway- a cut, long and straight up the arm? Or would have cutting the veins in his ankles been simpler?
"Gingetsu," he asked that night, "you won't let Kazuhiko die, will you."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because for me to die, he has to die first."
"You don't want to die?"
Ran was cold. He pulled his blanket over his shoulders. He could feel A sleeping.
"I don't care." Gingetsu said.
"Oh."
Gingetsu had brought him a real bird, once. It had been warm and full of blood in his hands, soft head and bright eyes constantly moving. One of the last alive. If C had been A, or if Ran had been A, the bird would have died in that moment- since nothing should have the freedom A did not have, that he thirsted for. C wanted to kill it too, when it flew off, but he didn't. Because that was A's job, and C didn't know what to do with jealousy, except keep it inside to fester or wear away. And then again, why bother with jealousy?
Death-freedom-rebirth- that was supposed to be the order of things. But Clovers cannot be reborn, because they cannot be free. They are always Clovers. Death is not freedom. Death is thick and stagnant, like breathing in bone char. Freedom comes from a complete lack- there are no choices, no circumstances to press your decision, no people to affect you. No regrets. Nothing at all. Ran had tried not to believe that, but C had known. C knew everything, while Ran liked to pretend he was new-born chick out of a golden egg.
But it seemed to him that the gold was just gilded tin, and the chick's wings were already clipped. Three-leafs couldn't grow wings anyway; only four-leafs.
When Gingetsu held him, sometimes, he thought he grew wings, but that was just sentiment. And stupid. Looking at his black hair spilling over Gingetsu's golden arms, he wondered. With shorn golden hair that turned nearly white with light when he stood by the window and evenly golden skin, he was radiance. Ran, with his pale skin and unfathomable eyes and dark hair, was not.
Was Gingetsu his egg? he wondered at the times when he admitted his delusions. The period of insulation and warmth before the egg was ripped away and silver wings were painfully stretched? Did he have to break away from Gingetsu to be free? And how could he break away from Gingetsu?
A had no egg. But if C broke his egg alone, then would he be free?
No.
A. I didn't know you were awake.
There's a lot you don't know, brother.
Yes.
You will never grow wings, C. You are my egg, and eggs don't leave the earth. They just get broken. All that's inside an egg is a slimy little embryo.
You would break and leave me? Grow wings without me?
You wanted to leave me, brother, lest we forget that salient fact. But I will never leave you. And you will never leave me. We are together. You are mine. Remember?
I am.
Ran was Gingetsu's. C was not. There was a difference.
Once, through the window in late summer, a woman and her child had been standing together on the side of the road, waiting to cross under the dull amber of a streetlight. The child had held a red paper balloon in its sticky hands. The mother's head, smooth and black as a crow's wing, was bent attentively. The night had blurred the edges of everything, like water-soaked paper, blue and lavender and mostly black.
The boy was trying to toss his paper balloon into the sky, but it kept floating back down. It knew the high altitude would break its skinny wooden ribs.
But C didn't know that. He wanted to make the little boy happy, see him smile. With a mental nudge, he let the balloon fly high into the sky, until the thin air became too much and it burst with an organic pop, shreds of paper drifting back down through the darkening sky. The child laughed and clapped its hands excitedly, but the woman ushered it away hurriedly, the yellow fish on her kimono swimming away into the darkness, frightened.
Everything ended at its highest point.
Time was his. He could wait forever, even though he didn't have forever. He didn't even have the time he did want, really, so what were a few more hours or days or weeks, here and there? Or months. Why had he ever valued his time?
Sitting by the window. On the couch. Talking some to Gingetsu, which usually led to lovemaking. Listening to the small sounds in the air. He missed Ora's singing. He and A had little to say; they both knew what was coming.
He told himself- and believed it- that he wasn't really bitter about his captivity. He'd chosen it, after all. To save people. To save himself from becoming A. He often wondered if his had truly been the right choice, though. From one cage to another, and the new one smaller and less beautiful. Did it really matter in the end if A killed? If they followed their rebirth principle, then nothing really mattered anyway, except the virtue of your actions. He and A and the four-leaf could never really be reborn fully, so perhaps that did not apply.
Perhaps they would have been better off destroying everything and sending everyone to a better life. Perhaps in the ultimate sin of destruction they could have at last achieved humanity and a soul.
The song that Ora had used to sing- "To be born again for your sake/ Blowing the past away on fluttering clouds/ Letting the future ride away on flowing winds/…to be born again in your arms/"- he used to believe it.
He wanted, so badly, to believe it. He wanted to believe that Gingetsu was his egg, his path to rebirth; that he could be happy and when he died, someone would mourn his past. He supposed he loved Gingetsu; he was gentle and kind and unobtrusive and brave. But he loved A more. Always. When you know someone as deeply as A and C knew each other, what could be between them but love?
Reality rarely lets anyone dream on for long. What sort of reality was his, anyway? A life inside a huge mausoleum of a house, a life inside a delicately constructed cage. And all for people he'd never met, for B's sake, the fool A had killed in a fit of bloodlust and rage. For B, for fools…
B had always been weak. Where A was wild and unpredictable, thrown and rejected from his mother's arms and C had been obedient and well-tempered, accepted by the arms of science, B had been stuck in a pathetic middle-ground, crying and unable to understand what A refused and C ignored. And B was different in other ways, too. A and C had silky black hair and silver-blue eyes, pale skin and strong facial features. B had short, pale hair, like bleached vegetables and large muddy brown eyes. But he was strong, strong like A and C, the deep green branded clover in his shoulder.
From the beginning, A hated him.
What are you doing here? This place is only for the strong, not a weakling like you. Did they let you in because you were crying? We won't comfort you. You're disgusting- I wouldn't touch you if you begged me to.
C would try to make peace.
A, we have to live with him. We might as well get along, brother.
Live? You call this a life?
His voice always got deadly soft when he spoke of their past. Even though they couldn't really remember it, A believed anything to be better than what they had.
Look, C, here comes another doctor. Sadists, all of them. Come to stick needles in us and tear us apart. What, you don't like that? The thought of needles? Shall I kill him for you, brother?
No! Don't-!
Hahaha. I won't kill him. Only if he hurts you. B, though…I might consider; you wouldn't even have to ask.
A, don't joke.
I'm not.
In their bare cage, the only comfort was each other. A was brutal in his protection of C, and C, in his own way, was the same. B was an outsider. He knew nothing. He had nothing.
He did not know where he came from. He did not know how to use his powers. He did not understand anything the scientists explained, nor did he understand the strands of truth beneath the swathe of lies they told. He did not know how to survive.
So he died.
A had been restive for days, railing at everything. C could not placate him. C was struck with the sudden, horrible realization that he and his brother were different- A would not hesitate to use his powers to get exactly what he wanted. The jokes were real. And C could no longer control him- if he ever had been able to in the first place.
Let's leave this place. We can- together, we are the most powerful. There is no one stronger than us.
We can't, A.
Why not?
Because. We know nothing about the outside world. We don't know what would happen to us- they tell us we'd die. We can't live here for…who knows how long…here, in any case- with all its weirdness- and not have any adverse effects. I don't want to die, A.
Better a short, free life then a caged one. Do you know how long we've been here? Can you remember?
No. C was ashamed- but why should he be ashamed? It wasn't his fault. But still..
I remember everything.
How can you remember what I can't? We are one.
No. You are different, C- too kind, soft. You don't understand. What it's like to want to hurt everything because it's free and wild and we are not! To want to just disappear or run away or die! Because it doesn't matter anymore, C, don't you see, we're fading away like this! We're just toys here, and I can't stand it and you! You whom I love with all my heart, you don't understand what it's like. You don't understand anything- you can't comprehend.
That's not true! We're the same! I do know!
A shook his head, sky-blue eyes looking down at the plastic dirt beneath their feet. C clamped his mind off from his twin. He knew, really, how different A was. He'd always known. He knew it more than A. But he didn't want to admit it. And he knew what being here meant, really. He knew- did A think he was an angel, to not have those feelings himself?
If there's anything, brother, the soft tendril of thought insinuating itself into his mind whispered, there's this: I'll never let you get too far away from me.
I know, C thought half-bitterly. I know.
A smiled a bit at, pale lips curving and blue eyes a rare, gentle translucent blue, and then wrapped his arms around C tightly from behind.
You know we don't belong here, C.
We do, no matter how we may feel. We are marked.
Marks that they forced upon us! A shot back, angry again. You don't deserve this, C. I want to leave here, and you do too. We have suffered this place long enough. We're letters, not names; we're demons, not humans. We're dead.
I don't know. What about B?
What about B? That crawling little sub-human has nothing to do with us.
He's one of us. We should take him if we leave.
There is no 'us' but me and you, C! Can't you understand anything
A's angry thoughts were dark red and brown blotches in C's mind, making it hard for him to think, exploding with painful clarity. He squeezed his eyes shut against the chaos.
Why do you worry about him so! I'm far more than he is! He deserves nothing, and he will die! How DARE you! How dare you, how dare they all! Pitiful, slobbering people- they're pulling you away from me! Keep away from them, away from B! They're tainting you!
A nearby pane of glass shattered, sending silvery shards everywhere. The shadows and loops of A's power jumped in splintered reflections.
A, stop, brother! You're hurting me! C cried soundlessly, pressing pale hands against his head. His head throbbed sickeningly, a dull black thud, thud, thud. A stopped immediately, face creased in concern and anger. He bent his neck to peer into C's face, silky hair brushing C's cheek.
I'm sorry.
It's- I'm- nothing. Go away, A. Please.
"How can you tell me to go?" A whispered, using words for once. C could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck, like a predator.
"A…" C said tonelessly, not knowing why he wanted so badly just then for A to leave. He looked down and stooped to pick up a shard of glass. He knew that in a moment white-coated, faceless doctors would come in to see what the trouble was. That in a moment, something would happen. He just wanted away, he wanted gone, he wanted A to leave.
He ran his fingers over the piece of glass in his hand and then clenched his fingers around its edge. Blood pooled in the cup of his hand. He offered A his hand mutely, opening it like a flower. This is for you.
I won't let you be taken away from me. I'll kill them first. Do you hear me?
C just stood there.
The next day A, B, and C stood in a triangle around a tree, silent under the bright lights and thin, straggly branches of the young sapling. They were supposed to be making it grow, each of them. Again. This was old, old again and again and again, but they were old too: like plants over-fertilized, they blossomed and withered in a burst of startling vitality.
But they, and this, was old.
C went first. He gathered his mind away from its regular focus points, like swimming in air, pulling his thoughts in the way a child collects scattered wooden blocks. The wires against his skull monitoring his thoughts trembled slightly, and he knew they were transmitting data to the air-screens floating in the doctor's display rooms. They could see every neuron fire, every little heartbeat.
No matter. He focused on the task at hand. The force of his mind flowed and filled him, a heavy weight behind his eyes. The tree in front of him glowed now, a feeble flickering glow, sullen globes of light dull brown around the edges: clearly not a thriving specimen. He closed his eyes.
Now, a new landscape appeared before him, one of light and darkness, pure energy and void. The tree was a dim point of luminosity, A and B miniature suns of blinding purity. Everything else was a sculpted spread of blackness, for there was no other life in the room. The tips of his fingers tingled; this calm, controlled way of summoning his powers was entirely different from the rush and surge of a forced, angry diffusion.
He let the energy leave him slowly, feeling it seep into the tree's tired, flagging life source. He was an infinite reservoir; this tree was nothing. There was no task he had encountered that was a drain on his powers. Could he and A really do anything together?
The tree straightened slowly, its bark changed color and texture subtly, leaves moving from crinkly, crisp brown deadness to a pale, sickly green. C felt the urge to pluck the leaves off and shred them.
B was next. C gave him a small smile; B was very shy, and a little slow, but C was very fond of him. B succeeded, and C tapped his fingers together in applause. A's eyes were very dark as he looked at them.
A did not succeed. Procreation was not his forte.
Standing there with A and B, C suddenly felt very afraid- there was a look in A's eyes that was far shy of sane, and he didn't know what to do. B, standing in a pale spotlight, the wires running through his pierced ears transmitting their next orders, noticed nothing.
Brother, it's okay-
His thoughts met a high, impenetrable wall that stretched far and away, like steel. C glanced at his twin and took his hand. It was cold. "Brother…"
C's plea went unanswered, and as B approached, A held onto C's hand tightly, digging his nails in. C winced, lips tightening, but made no move away.
"C," B said politely, "Shall we go to the next room? A is to stay." And he reached forward- and C thought he saw a small, flickering spark of rebellion in his eyes, a small glint of knowledge- and took C's other hand and tugged slightly. His hand was warm and sweaty.
"Get away from my brother," A whispered, turning his head toward B's pasty face. "Now." His voice had a quiet, sinuous sound.
"No-" B protested, tugging on C's hand. C couldn't move or speak. Or think. The grips on his hands were like vices.
Fast as thought, A shoved C away from B and, not looking back as C crumpled to the floor, stepped close to B and grasped the thick fabric of his shirt.
"You'll never take him away from me, you fucking little bland," A said almost gently, face close to B's and eyes blazing behind his black hair. "He's mine. So just stop."
C watched paralyzed as A reached up, brushing a strand of B's stringy hair from B's face, away from his dilated eyes, frozen in fear, and then placed a soft hand over B's heart.
"Stop."
C thought sometimes that he had stopped then, too. The way the life in B's face had vanished, leaving a small sack of soft skin and bones in A's arms and a splinter of something hard and cold in C's heart had melted the clouds from C's eyes. He had seen a way out, a way out and a reason out that would never appear to A.
What had Gingetsu said to him once? "If it's dark, you can always turn on a light." Or something like that. The problem was that he wasn't sure if it was dark. It was a muggy twilight. Sometimes it just depended which window you looked out- there were more lights in one than the other.
I see a red door and I want it painted black,
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black, A hummed to him, somewhere in his mind. C smiled.
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
The flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby, it just happens everyday
Silly. I won't come back.
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it's tainted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is painted black
No more will my green sea turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you, A interrupted him.
A…
If I look hard enough into the setting sun,
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black,
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I want to see it faded, painted black, black as night, black as sin, I want to see the sun blotted out from the sky, I want to see her faded, jaded, painted black…
Is that what you want? You want me to be like you?
I want you to be you. In this place, you are not you. You don't know what you're doing, C. Or should I call you Ran? Now that you have a proper name, I should use it. Do you think you're normal now? Mockingly.
Call me what you like. I know what I'm doing. Don't torment me about it.
You torment me A cried. I see you wither away in that house day by day, I see that man take you, I see you lament and cry and you think I'm not in torment?
This is mine, not yours. Don't torture yourself needlessly, A. I thought you were the one who said we were different, separate!
You could never understand, C! They were hurting you, they were hurting us all, trying to understand us, but they couldn't! You don't even understand yourself, you don't understand me! I killed him-
Shut up! I don't want to hear this!
I killed him, I killed B for you! Because I knew the two of us could get away! I knew we could live again, we could begin again, we could be reborn! Why didn't you listen to me!
"Because you were wrong!" Ran screamed, slamming a fist into the wall. "There's no rebirth in death!" You're wrong! You ruined everything from the start!
A was silent.
"A, I didn't mean…" Ran said sadly. "It just...wouldn't have worked…you were changing, becoming…irrational."
"Oh, now I see…" A whispered, splaying his fingers against a cold wall. "It's my fault? So I'm the damned one, here? That's why you left me here-punishment for being…'irrational'. You just couldn't bring someone like me into the real world."
C flinched.
"I didn't deserve it, did I? Because I didn't hold up to your values, you hypocrite. Who deserves to breathe freely? Whoever you like best? I like that..." Far away, his lips barely moved.
No, A. Your way was wrong; it was hurting you. C thought, taking a deep breath. I couldn't let that happen. And I knew you'd be the same here- hurting yourself. I love you. I had to protect you in the only way I knew how.
"You think I'm not in pain?"
"No."
Another silence. C sighed. "I'm not anything, A. I don't matter. But you do…you're strong enough to change everything, and I couldn't let you. You'd be more different. I wanted you to stay the same…"
So now I'm giving us ground to end on. Don't you understand? We're all locked up, just the two of us. You bound me first, and I returned the favor. If we'd broken away- something in us would have broken as well. You know what will happen now, this way. Can't you find assurance in that?
"Am I supposed to thank you, Ran?" Words etched in acid.
I- No…
"And you think that sacrificing yourself for me, keeping me close to you- will really help? We're going to die unfulfilled. We'll die as nothing. We'll be letting them win. This is...!"
I'm sorry, but-
"It doesn't matter." Gently. "I don't care, I guess. Or, I do, but…"
A was shrugging, shoulders moving slightly under the smooth black fabric of his wrap. He toyed with the fringe idly.
C smiled slightly, wishing he could grip his brother's warm hand one last time.
Wait with me
I'll wait with you
Forever, to the end,
Where gravity pulls us
Wait with me,
Together, forever
The unending night calls to us
Wait with me
and together we'll sleep
again
Wait with me
There's nothing
Between us but secrets
Wait with me
'til the end,
Kiss my cold skin good bye
Wait with me,
And I'll wait for you
In the end
To the end
For your sake
In the dead dark
I'll be reborn,
And we will meet again
Owari.