A/N: This is for the ML challenge (again) and, no, this is not the start of another series, though it is a pleasant thought. Warnings for sadness and fluff and death.

Disclaimer: The song, Fields of Gold, is copy righted Sting (I've taken some artistic liberties and changed 'she' to 'he'); Beyblade and its character are copyrighted somebody else, not me. If you've read something similar to this, and you most likely have, that's just a coincidence or, rather, something I've taken inspiration from.

To get the full effect of the fic, it'd be best if you listed to the Eva Cassidy version of the song, knowing that she was dying of cancer at the time.

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Fields of Gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves

Upon the fields of barley

I gaze across the expanse of blue sky untouched by clouds, free from technology. A soft summer breeze shifts through the land; the sun-drenched reeds move with the wind, making it look like waves upon waves of golden ocean. I tilt my face to the sun, absorbing its warmth, closing my eye to its brightness. I've gotten used to having sun on my face, I'm not afraid of warmth, though I still prefer a cold caress.

I chuckle slightly at the memory. I used to cringe when someone bumped shoulders with me, or laid a comforting hand on my back... I didn't see it back then but I do now. I was so childish. I thought that if I pretended that people didn't exist, that if I truly made myself pretend so, then I would open my eyes and I'd be left alone, just me, nothing else. There would be no city, or country, or universe for me to exist, or for nothing to exist around me. I'd just be, alone.

I thought that I was impenetrable, an animated diamond shell within which there was a tiny heart. I didn't care about anything; I don't suppose I really needed to back then. I was young and thought that by simply having the will to, I could be on top of the world. When you want to be on top of the world, there is no room for anything else. People become a hindrance to your ambitiousness.

But, then, some people also want to be a part of you. Some want to break you and use you. Others want to see what you're made of so they can scrutinize you – everything you're made of, your soul, your dogma – for their own perverse pleasure. And still there are others who don't stop until they get within your shell and burry themselves deep inside you, where they remain like some wonderful, beautiful and awfully painful stigma.

That's how you were. You probed and probed until you were inside and then I couldn't get you out and, worst of all, I didn't want to. You taught me how to smile, to laugh – to really laugh, from the inside rather than the throat – to live and breathe. Heck. You were what I breathed. I woke up everyday to see you; that seemed to be my entire purpose in life. I couldn't function without you. I remember a time when you had to go to a beyblade tournament in Nara for a couple of days. I didn't feel alive during that time, just hollow, or rotten inside.

The warm breeze picks up a bit, tugging at my longer but no less wild hair. You used to love coming here. You said that when you looked down from the hillock I'm now standing on and the field of barley below was an expanse of gold... you said you felt like floating, or flying through air. And then you laughed at your own silliness, even though you were almost eighteen at the time, because people your age didn't think about something so ridiculous. But you outspread your arms anyways, propped yourself on the old wooden fence, closed your eyes and let the wind ruffle your hair. And for a moment, I'd think that you would, actually, be flying. There was happiness in your face and it mirrored my own, even though it was not displayed on my face.

I swallow past the ball in my throat. The image of that time, among the field of gold with you remains in my head and heart, even after so much time. I don't want to remember half the time, but then I also fear that it's the one the most precious memories of you that I have. And so I keep on remembering. The goofy smile on your face, the gold of sun overhead and the fields and of your eyes. They still linger in my heart, even if you don't. It's painful, I know, but I have nothing else, nothing solid I can hold on to.

You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky

As we walk in fields of gold

I still remember that day, oh so long ago. I can still feel the cold and fear seep through me, permeate through the bone marrow and through walls I've erected. And I still feel that ache whenever I think about it, though I never do so willingly.

It was supposed to be a normal day, and in all other respects it was. The sky was clear, like it is today, and there was a warm breeze then, too. We were in the park. I never liked public places, but you loved children. You loved to see them run around in the playground, you loved to hear their laughter. And sometimes, when we'd gone there, you would laugh, too, like you yourself was a child and found something so whimsical and magical in the air or just life. It amazed me, that ability of yours to enjoy life without heed. You also loved to sit on that swing, now rusted and weathered from a long time of misuse.

I loved watching you kick at the sand and fly, your eyes shut tight lest you open them and find the dream dissolved. My heart would swell (still does when I bring myself to remember) and I would watch you with bated breath because you can't help but be afraid for the one you love. There was this fear playing in my head, like a record that is scratched up and keeps repeating itself, that should I blink, you'd disappear. Just, open my eyes and you would not be there. But you always were.

My throat closes in on itself again. I push a strand of hair out of my eyes and squint at the brightness of the barley.

You were a healthy teenage boy. There shouldn't have been anything wrong. But then, healthy teenage boys don't suddenly collapse for no reason what so ever.

God, I was so scared back then. My heart felt like it would leap out of my chest and then explode in a million little crystalline pieces. I couldn't breathe. I just held your limp form as a shudder after shudder passed through me.

It wasn't fair; still isn't. We were together for only a year... You were so beautiful... God...

The ambulance ride was Hell, literal, virtual, whatever, but it was Hell. I couldn't do anything; I was so cold. I didn't even realize how warm I was before... that... happened... It never was possible for a person to look beautiful while on a stretcher and oh! so lifeless. You were so pale, so small seeming. I thought your entire body had shrunk into some deformed caricature of your nature stature. God. Your face was so white; I cold see the tiny purplish veins just under the surface of the skin. I wanted for you to open your eyes, to look at me with that tender smile you always spared for me. I wanted to wake up from that nightmare.

I held your hand during the entire ride, even though the space in the van was limited and there were medical assistants rushing about with syringes and tubes. They scared me, those long, thin tubes. I didn't know what they were intended for; for you, that was certain, but why would a heavy boy need them? I thought. A female nurse put a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I didn't feel her; your hand in mine was small and sweaty and cold. I prayed for a miracle, even though I've never believed in God or his divine graces. And for a moment my wish was granted.

Your eyes fluttered and opened; you looked at me, like you did so many times before but this time there was a sort of tiredness in them and it shocked me because it's not something I came to associate with you. You smiled at me, slowly, softly and mouthed my name, as if that was your own litany or perhaps salvation.

"Shhh," I murmured into the palm of your hand, kissing it softly. "Everything will be alright. I know it will. The doctors are going to take some tests, that's all. And then later, when they release you, we'll go to your field – the golden one. And there, we'll look at the sky and the sun and we'll fly. I promise." Even as I said the words, my voice grew quieter and quieter, breaking at the end.

"I know." You had said.

Your smiled didn't fade. And as you closed your eyes, I managed to sneak in a kiss on your brow while the nurse was not watching.

So he took his love for to gaze awhile

Upon the fields of barley

Standing there, days, or maybe years later, it felt, and watching you drifting farther and

farther away from me into the earth... I don't think was alive during that time. There was emptiness and there was pain and I hated it. I stood still, back straight and tense like I was taught to and received the expected "there, there"s and "I'm so sorry"s. Everybody from the old team were there. Kenny breathed out a pain-filled "I'm sorry" and patted me on the back. Takao smiled cheekily at me, to encourage me, I know, but the smile was fake and there were tears in his eyes. Maxie was in tears the entire time, he hugged me for a long while, and I managed to hold him back though I felt nothing from the embrace.

Later, when all the other attendees left for their own homes and lives, the four of us gathered in the living room of our apartment and we watched old videos of you – during practice, battles, in sports interviews, anything that reminded us of you. But still that void remained within me. I refused to cry and hadn't since the long hours in the hospital.

I shift against the wooden fence because my side is going a bit numb.

The days and months after were the worst in my life. When I was small I had to undergo arduous physical and mental training. There were times when I thought that every inch of my body was covered with either a bruise of a blood clot. After you went away... it was much worse. I found myself walking through life like a zombie. There truly was no more reason for me to live other than your memory, of us, of that time...

The wind picks up again and I have to tighten my hold on an old photograph of you and me. It's bettered now from long periods of being stared at and held, but it's a reminder and it's precious.

I remember when you stood on this same spot and the sun was in your hair. There was a distinct sweetness in the air and you scrunched up your nose because you always did that whenever assaulted with a strong aroma. You leaned on the old wooden rail and it creaked under your weight, but you didn't care.

"You see that?" You had asked, pointing at the sea of gold. "That, I think, is where I'd like to be when I die."

"You'll never die." I told you, stubbornly, sulkily.

You laughed and your voice rung through the air and the entire field like chimes of Sunday bells. "That's silly and you know it. Everyone dies at one point or another, it's inevitable."

"No," I agreed, "but that doesn't stop one from wishing it didn't happen."

Your lips quirked up like the Cheshire cat's. "True. But all I'm saying is that I'd rather be here, on this field with the sun and the barley when it's time for me to leave."

The wind tugged at your hair as it does now to mine; the sun kissed your face. I thought you were glowing, like some divine, splendid mirage. We stood there, leaning on the aged wood together, your head on my shoulder, whispering sweet nothings to me. We talked for a long time – of weather and earth, of sky and moon and the sun as it shone down on us. I was so content, then, just being with you, hearing you breathe next to me and wondering whether we were sharing the same air, the same set of lungs, the same heart.

You kicked off your shoes and laughingly jumped over the fence. You called me over and I came, gravitated to you because you were magnetic and I wouldn't say "no" to you if my life depended on it. You grabbed my hand – yours was warm and soft, mine was callous and larger than yours was; I've often wondered how your hands managed to stay so perfect even after as much physical activity as you have. You ran, barefoot as you were, and I ran after you because I didn't think there was anything else to do. You laughed high and strong and tugged on my hand: faster, faster. We became the wind, together.

We stopped somewhere in the middle, or maybe nowhere at all, and we laid down and stared up into the spotless sky. The golden reeds swayed gently above us.

In his arms he fell as his hair came down

Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love

Among the fields of barley?

It was wonderful. I held you there, in the golden sea. You kissed my neck; I planted little kisses along your jaw. I twined my fingers through your overly long hair; you ran a tentative finger across my face, my lips. You kissed me then, or maybe I kissed you, and it was lingering and passionate, adventurous and daring on my part and soft and gentle on your. I wound my arms around your waist and ran my hands up and down your spine through your shirt. Your hair came undone and fell in dark, curtain-like tresses about our two sealed forms. It was like a heaven for the both of us. Nothing else existed outside of that silky shield, just the two of us, lips and hearts locked.

"Will you love me?" You asked though you already knew that I loved you, even if I didn't say it; it didn't need to be said.

We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky

As we lie in fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so

Upon the fields of barley

Feel his body rise when you kiss his mouth

Among the fields of gold

You whimpered and arched your back when flesh met flesh, and I breathed your name when you kissed me just so. Your face was flushed and beautiful. Your eyes were the same colour as the stems of barley, though deeper and loving. I breathed out that I loved you against your heated flesh and I found myself repeating the phrase like a chant, one that sealed that pact between us.

We made love, then, among the gold and the sun and the sweet air. It was our first time and it was perfect. It was slow and gentle and passionate at the same time...

We laid after, snuggled together on the dry grass. I stroked your hair and you purred into my side. Nothing needed to be said, all secrets were bare for us...

My eyes sting, but no tears fall; I promised I wouldn't since that time. I clench my teeth at the memory of you and me together like that and stroke your face on the old photograph. The picture is always the same, always smiling, always young. It hurts to see it and know that once I held you like that and you were mine.

I never made promises lightly

And there have been some that I've broken

But I swear in the days still left

We'll walk in fields of gold

We'll walk in fields of gold

I've never been much on promises, I've always thought that promises were too final, like an omen or a goodbye. But I do make promised, sometimes. I made so many promises to you back then. I promised you the moon, the stars, the sky and earth and the universe, all the while you were that universe for me. I promised many such simple and childish things, though I've never voiced it aloud -- it was better that you not know about my absolute obsession with you.

God. I loved you. I still do and it aches inside when I think it, which I do every day.

That promise I made you back then in the ambulance, it was the last thing I said to you. And you uttered "I know" and you knew. You always knew. You knew that I loved you even before the words left my mouth, before I dared to come to you to ask for that first date, before I even admitted to myself that I was infatuated with you. You knew that you could depend on me, trust me when I was so cold and barren on the outside. And you knew, like you always did, that I'd keep the promise.

There had been many promises that I've broken. I promised myself once that I wouldn't stop until I had the world, but I did because I found you, nevermind that my world was you. I promised that I would always look down on an enemy. You were my enemy once, and I could never look down on you, only up -- you were my God, my faith, my religion, my everything. And I also promised you that time on this same field that we would always stay together like that...

But this promise was the last I've given you. And someday, I know, I will return to this same field and there you'll be waiting for me to join you.

Many years have passed since those summer days

Among the fields of barley

It has been many years since that time oh so long ago. I've grown up. I'm no longer an eighteen year old chasing an impossible dream. I'm almost forty and still hopelessly infatuated with you. Life without you is very difficult, especially since I've always thought of you and me together, aging, dying. And during the nights, when I can almost feel your hands on me, your skin against mine. Sometimes there are days when I wake up and expect you to be in bed with me, smiling like you always did. And when I close my eyes, even now, I feel your arms around me, your hands touching my face, feathery kisses along my jaw.

And it hurts, more than ever, to wake up to an empty king-sized bed and know that your touch can be nothing but an illusion.

Everybody has lives now, too. Kenny's still into computers; he has his own rapidly expanding company in the field of robotics and computer engineering. Takao and Maxie are together, just as you thought. Takao isn't as loud-mouthed, or brash, though I hear he still has a bottomless stomach. He works in sports; coaches professional beyblading teams. Blondie works with children and is still as soft-hearted as he was back then. There are times when I'm jealous of them; they found their little glass dome of happiness, they have each other. And I...

Sometimes I think you're watching over me, wherever you are. There would be times, when I would take a great step in life, that I'd feel your presence there. The day I entered university like you always wanted me to, I felt your memory propelling me forward even as I wanted to run away because it reminded me too much of you. When I became the president of the new and improved Biovolt, you were there, lingering at the back of my mind, giving me proverbial thumbs up. And you were there when I got married and then had my daughter.

See the children run as the sun goes down

Among the fields of gold

I've married in mid-thirty. I love you still, even after so long, I doubt I could ever stop. But I'm also lonely. I long for your touch and taste; I miss you terribly. I come to the golden field every year for you, even though I know I'll never find you among the tall stalks.

My wife is a nice woman, I'm sure you'd approve of her if you met her. She left me not long after the birth of our daughter, Noriko; we were married for less than three years. She said I didn't love her, and it's true, you know; said that I'd break her completely because I've never really left you, even though it's been twenty years.

Noriko is a sweet child. She reminds me so much of you, and it's like I have you back, for a just a fraction of a moment. She's almost five now. I'm allowed to visit her. She has the same large, honey colour eyes as you, though hers are perhaps more innocent -- neither of us truly knew childhood like she does. She looks at me with those big eyes of hers and I see you and it always makes me breathless at how much time has gone by.

I take Noriko to your field sometimes; I've bought it especially for you so it cannot be touched by technology. She likes to run barefoot in the barley, like you did. We play games like that; she'd run and hide in the tall reeds and I'd go look for her. I'd pretend that I lost her and she'd come running on her little chubby legs, crying "Papa! Papa, don't be sad, I'm here!" And my heart swells. Sometimes I think that I live only for her and the memory of you.

You'll remember me when the west wind moves

Upon the fields of barley

The wind picks up again and I finally notice that there are dark clouds moving across the horizon. The sky begins to slowly bleed into dusky red. Nightfall will come soon. I pocket the photograph and give one last glance at the fading gold of the field. For a moment, I can see the two of us running across that brilliant see, as fast at the wind. We're eighteen again, and nothing else really matters because you're with me. Your laughter once again rings through the sky and penetrates me. You turn your head and glance at me and there's a smile stretched upon your lips. You call my name and it, too, rings on you lips; I've always loved the way you said it.

"Kai!"

I smile back and my hand twitches to wave at the image. I do so.

"I love you." I hear, like that time so long ago, and then it's gone and I'm old and alone again.

"I love you, too, Rei. I'll be there, wait for me and I'll be there."

I turn around, leaving the field and the phantasm behind me. We'll wade through that golden sea again, someday, I promise myself. And I know that I'll keep it.

You can tell the sun in his jealous sky

When we walked in fields of gold

When we walked in fields of gold

When we walked in fields of gold

~*~Finis~*~

Please tell me that wasn't too sappy; it was supposed to be angst but I turned it into... into THAT. Oh, well, you can't win 'em all.