A/N: Two updates for two different stories in a day! I'm on a roll - and I have to say, that my Advent Calendar story is really helping. I managed to write half of this in two hours - something that, several weeks ago, would have taken me probably days of continuous writing. But wow! I'm getting faster! ...And a headache, so it seems.

Anyway, this is my entry for Saba's Reflection's Invincible Competition! I've used two characters that never aren't even on the drop-down character list for this fandom, but they ARE canon. I've tried to get them in-character as much as possible, but I didn't have a lot to go on, so they're mainly my interpretation of what they were like.

The style this is written in - the use of constant lists, and long sentences and attitude - is supposed to be a reflection of the character. It's first-person narrative, from Elizabeth's (Ryou's mother - I didn't know his parents exact names, so I went by what I thought I'd heard them as, and even asked around to see if they sounded right) point of view. So on my part, I've taken so many risks that are out of my comfort zone; the amount of green lines beneath sentences meaning that they weren't grammatically correct, the use of words that aren't actually real (they sound real to me) and the tense that's wildly all over the place - risks, risks, risks. But oh well, I had so much fun writing this, I really did.

IMPORTANT: Now, the tense needs some explaining: Elizabeth is telling about her past, which is why there's a great amount of past tense words in this, but it's also got present tense in. So it's kind of mixed and muddled. I just hope it reads alright.

On that note, please read and review! I've tried really hard on this!

They told me I was wild, reckless. At fifteen I was banned from leaving the house alone, my parents insisting that if I ever wanted to go out further than the garden, I either had to take them or a chaperone with me. To which I rolled my eyes at. Constantly. I mean, sure, the garden was big and all, but it was never enough to satisfy me.

I was an explorer by nature, something my family had discovered on my fifth birthday, when I somehow managed to fall off of the conservatory roof, to their absolute horror. What? It wasn't my fault I had seen something shiny on top of it and had decided to crawl out and get it. And hey, I wasn't hurt - or wasn't aware that I was hurt, because my mind was too preoccupied on examining the small piece of silver in my tiny hands to even consider allowing the pain a spare thought. But, alas, the object was taken from me too, much like my freedom. I was under complete watch from that day forth. And I hated it.

They gave me things - to appease me, I guessed. To soften the blow of never being allowed to roam about or make friends. In fact, the only friend I seemed to have was my tutor. Well, I thought her somewhat of a friend - she'd tell me stories and chat to me during breaks in our study time. But then… it's not as if I could spill all my secrets to her, or pour my heart out about the unfairness of my situation. Because first and foremost, she worked for my parents and was obliged to tell them anything about me that she thought they should know. Which, let's be frank about this, totally sucked.

Even on the days where talking would have helped, I bit my tongue and kept a smile painted on my lips. I always found that helped - to pretend that everything was fine, and just smile. They never asked me questions when I did that, much to my amusement. And I was thankful for it, as that way there was never a chance that they'd probe, go too far, and I'd end up doing something stupid and getting grounded. I didn't want to lose the only thing I had close to the outside: my garden.

Though clearly, my parents weren't the smartest. One day, when I was just shy of being seventeen, I escaped. I got out. And that feeling - the rush of adrenaline as I ran through the streets, the pounding of my heart as it hammered away in my chest, the miraculously genuine grin that lit up my face - was beautiful. I'd never felt so alive in my life. And it was addictive. Tasting freedom was so sweet, so refreshing, and I never wanted to go back to my stuffy old house, with it's locked windows, and bolted doors, its too-soon curfews and overly strict rules. I wanted to live this freedom forever. So I decided, there and then, that that was what I was going to do.

I tore though the town, floating on the waves of my high, running and running, and not once stopping running, until I reached the edge. Or, well, the cliff-face; the one thing that prevented me from going any further unless I was chasing an early death. So I halted. And I laughed. I threw my arms out wide, and laughed my gleeful laugh until my stomach hurt and tears of blissful joy cascaded down my cheeks, and pure happiness filled every inch of my being. I was hysterical; I'd lost my mind. I loved it. And… I don't know exactly why, but… I still think it was that utter euphoria that made me step forward. Right off the cliff.

You know what, though? I didn't scream, not once. I was far too busy laughing. You think I'd be smart enough to at least acknowledge the fact I was falling to my death, wouldn't you? But oh no, not silly little freedom-high me.

I can't remember the exact details of what happened next, seeing as I must have blacked out at some point, although, I do remember this: waking up in my bed with the most horrendous headache, of which I could never have even imagined. And I was good at imagining things, yes I was. The sunlight creeping through a gap in my turquoise curtains didn't help, either. Nor did the door banging open, or the angry cursing of a very familiar voice.

I groaned - probably my biggest mistake. You see, that's when he heard me and stormed over to my bedside in a way that I could only describe as a penguin trying to march, and failing miserably. He wobbled - my father, trying to act tough, angry and many other things, wobbled over to me. I snorted in amusement, an action that caused him to stop abruptly and glare at me in utter disbelief. I almost felt like saying "What? You can't fathom why on Earth I'd dare laugh at you for wobbling? Well, you clearly wiser old bugger, I must be insane, right?". But it was one of those 'Elizabeth-bite-your-tongue' moments, as my brain seemed to be screaming at me rather fondly. Which, might I add, did not ease the affect of the pain in my head.

So, to cut a long story short, I was yelled at, cursed at, belittled and punished - oh, and yelled at some more - before being introduced to my 'saviour'. Saviour, my ass. The damn idiot had brought me back here! To my so-called home (coughPRISONcough), to await the time when I would wake up and thank him many times over for saving my life, maybe even shower him with gifts and affections, calling him my hero as I stared at him with love-hearts in place of my eyes. …What? Did he think this was some kind of damn fairytale? 'Yo, buddy! I ain't a princess, nor am I a damsel in distress. So if I want to go around idiotically stepping off cliff-faces, let me do so. Please.

I ignored him, for the most part. Flipped my finger at him several times, too. No, before you get the wrong idea, he didn't live with me; he just kept coming back, day after day after day, to see if I was better. I didn't even know his name. Didn't want to, either. The asshole could rot in hell, for all I cared. I didn't want him around, bugging me every five minutes, asking me if I was ok and staring at me sympathetically. If he wanted me to be ok, he would have left. I wanted to tell him this, but again, didn't dare. I was in enough trouble as it was, already; I didn't need to dig an even deeper hole by annoying this random stranger… who had somehow become close to my parents.

Don't ask me how! I don't know, either! It just… happened.

Anyway, moving on. It was several weeks later when I had an epiphany: this guy - however much I had decided I could not stand him - had saved my life. I would have been dead by then if it weren't for him. I can remember my eyes going wide and my mouth falling open in a slight gasp. I stayed like that for a while, even upon hearing the door open and close. Though I never heard the footsteps. Sly, sneaky little thing, he was. It was only when his face appeared in front of mine that I realised I wasn't alone in my room. Still, I didn't show any shock, or even a reaction for that matter, to his arrival. I just sat there, perfectly still, imperfectly composed.

He must have been worried, that or merely curious, because he asked me something. Something along the lines of "Are you ok?" or whatever, which I didn't completely understand because my brain had turned it all to garble and I couldn't make sense of what he was actually saying. So I just nodded. He didn't look convinced, but I didn't give him any other response for the question I hadn't heard. Until, after a while, I managed to find my voice.

"You… saved me," I whispered. I hadn't meant for it to sound so pathetic, really, but I was still in a state of surprise at my discovery. And do you know what? To my absolute bewilderment, he started laughing. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what brought me back to Earth so suddenly.

"What?" I demanded, scowling. My fists were balled up, clutching at my duvet, dangerously close to ripping it to shreds. I remember glaring at him as harshly as I could muster. Not that it did any good: he only laughed harder. I almost growled at him in frustration, but he beat me to it, opening his mouth to speak. And the sound of his voice - so soft, so wistful, so light and beautiful - stunned me. It was as though this was the first time I'd ever heard it, and perhaps it was - it was certainly the first time I had bothered to properly listen to it. I found myself drinking in his every word, and then listening to them repeat inside my head, over and over, each time more lovely than the last.

"It's taken you this long to realise? My, my, you must have hit your head pretty hard."

Well, it's not like there was much significance to what he said, and truthfully the words he used meant nothing to me. It was just the sound… the sweet, lullabic tone. I could happily fall asleep to that voice every night, and wake up to it every morning. I sighed. And then promptly hit myself.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, seemingly taken aback. But oh, I could see the smirk on his face, tugging up the corners of his lips. Cocky little-- But whatever, I was about to show him who had the right to be arrogant here! So, as quick as I could, I racked my brain for the most witty, mind-blowing, cleverest thing to say.

"Huh?"

…Well done, Elizabeth. Because I totally didn't make a fool out of myself with that oh-so-intellectual, one-syllable word. Sarcasm: don't you just love it?

He'd shaken his head, chuckling beneath his breath as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. An action that caused me to release an incoherent noise, much like someone spitting a stone out of their mouth and being strangled at the same time. He turned his head, and just looked at me, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

So I snubbed him. Turned my nose right up, I did. "You look confuddled," I stated, eyeing him as though I was superior. I suppose, at that moment, I thought I was.

"'Confuddled'?" he questioned, staring at me incredulously for several minutes. And then… I could see his expression change, stifling his laughter, until a few chuckles escaped, then louder, soon more frequent, before eventually he tipped his head back and collapsed backwards on the bed in a fit of hysterical laughter, clutching his sides as though in pain. "Y-you… think… 'c-confuddled'… oh, oh wow," he stammered, during the few gaps he managed in between.

So much for my superior-moment. I snorted indignantly, and pouted.

It wasn't long after that until his laughter died down and he took a final, deep breath to steady himself. "So, going to tell me what 'confuddled' means? Or is it Elizabeth-speak?"

"It's Elizabeth-speak," I hissed. "Not that you'd care."

"If I didn't care, I wouldn't have asked."

That caused me to blink. Once, twice, three times, then four. I was astounded. No-one had told me outright that they cared before. I mean, sure, my parents did - they were my parents, so of course they did, right? - but they'd never told me, and it wasn't as though there was ever anyone else around to say such a thing.

"You… care?"

He rolled his eyes. "I do. Besides, I like you, Elizabeth. You've got something that makes you different to a lot of the people I usually meet."

I tilted my head to one side, genuine curiosity taking over. "And what would that be?"

"You're quirky. And a little odd."

My expression darkened. "Excuse me?" But, so like him (as I'd later discover), he just laughed my comment off.

"So…" he began, glancing around. Attempting to change the topic, so it seemed. I rolled my eyes. "What do you do around here for fun?" His gaze returned to me as he finished his question, clearly anticipating an answer.

"…"

"No really, Elizabeth. I mean it. What do you actually do here?"

"Oh, in that case - I do work, work, more work - did I mention work? - and um… sometimes watch TV or read." I smiled sickeningly sweetly at him; yeah, he got the sarcasm.

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"You used the word 'fun'."

Now that surprised him. Aha! Take that Mr. I'm-So-Cool-And…Something! One point to me!

"So you don't have fun?" I shook my head, smiling triumphantly. Ok, I guess at the time, I was really out of it - do normal people smile when they're admitting they're banned from any privileges whatsoever? No, no they do not. But somehow, he understood why I was smiling, and simply smirked back.

"Well, we're going to have to change that, now aren't we?"

--

I was an idiot. Though I guess I always knew that, somehow. I mean, sure, when it came to academics I was ok - having private tuition really pays off in that sense - but life… Life was always a struggle for me, though I'm pretty sure you get that by now.

Within a year, Jishou - yes, that thing of a boy who had saved my life was called Jishou (he was Japanese, too, can you believe! He came all the way here from Japan to study at university) - had completely broken me free of my chains, and had gradually began showing me the outside world. Which, might I add, my parents completely detested. As gradually as he showed me all I had been missing, he gradually went from being my parents favourite person… to their least favourite. A fact of which I reminded him constantly, amid laughs and taunting and jeering. But really, he didn't seem to mind - though I swore that sometimes, he hated it - because it seemed as though he was only interested in me. That may sound a bit arrogant, I suppose. I still question it, to some degree. But at least now I know… now I know it was the truth, and that to give up everything I had ever known and just go with him was the best decision I ever made.

Then came that day. That day, so close to my eighteenth birthday, when my parents approached me. Their faces held narrowed eyes, tight-lipped scowls, and no hint of care whatsoever. They seemed disappointed; angry. Uh-oh, what had I done this time?

I placed my pen down on the desk, vaguely aware of my tutor bolting up and hastily shuffling all of the papers together, before scurrying away. My vision focused on the two nearing adults; my face was instantly blank, void of anything that would give me away. They needn't find out - not now. After my eighteenth, when I was free to do as I pleased and leave them if I so chose, then I would tell them. But not now; no, it was too soon.

I remember the bout of nausea that filled my stomach in the form of butterflies. The thoughts that rattled round my head didn't help much, either. How could they have found out? I was so careful, so secretive, so deceptive and misleading and… And they knew. They knew, they knew, they knew, they--

"Elizabeth, we have something very important to discuss with you. Something you are probably not aware of yourself."

--had no idea. Oh. My. God. They didn't know! How could they not know?! Were they that oblivious? I mean, really, it's not like I was doing a very good job at hiding it - the puking, the overeating, the painting of my… Yeah, lets not go there. But still! Evil, nasty, uncaring bas--

"We're concerned about you, Lizzie," my father stated, a small, fake smile tugging at his face. I raised my eyebrow and snorted. Sure you are. And-- wait, did you just call me Lizzie? Oh no you didn't! That's Jishou's nickname for me - Jishou's and Jishou's alone! Rage started to fill me. I swear, that was one time I could have pounded them most. Right, left, right, left - yeah, I could've totally smashed them up! And then who would be laughing. I smirked - ok, I really wasn't very good at hiding what I was thinking.

My mother looked disgusted, and she shook her head before speaking. "Elizabeth, dear," she had began in a no-nonsense tone. Oh no, here it comes. "You've been spending a lot of time with that boy--" Why yes mother, yes I have. You've really noticed? "--and your father and I were beginning to think that perhaps… perhaps he isn't very good for you. As such, we don't want you anywhere near him from now on. Do you understand that? You are not to be around him anymore. We don't want our daughter turning into a delinquent, free-thinking, wild, reckless--"

"Excuse me?" I hissed. She jolted back in her chair, shocked and… scared? It puzzles me even to this day whether my mother was actually scared or not. I mean, I'd never spoken to her in the tone before… so maybe she was afraid. But anyway, my rambling of reasons aside…

I'd stood rapidly, causing my chair to scrape unnervingly back across the floor, and slammed my hands down on the table. My eyes must have been filled with murder - that's how I felt. Like ripping them limb from limb. How dare they, how DARE they! If I thought about it, there was never a time before when I had been so angry, so willing to just give them a piece of my mind. And that's exactly what I did. For the first time ever, I gathered my courage about me, and answered them back.

"You have absolutely no right to tell me what I can and can't do anymore! You've already ruined my life enough - ever since I was little you've banned me from doing practically anything! Everything I had, you took away from me! You stole from me - you stole my life!" I remember panting as I shouted, the sheer energy and breath it was taking to yell so insanely at them was wasting me. Tears slid down my cheeks, soaking my face with salty liquid in a matter of seconds.

"No, Elizabeth. If anything's going to steal your life, it'll be your love. Your father and I are more than aware of your feelings towards this hooligan, and we think that it's unnecessary and high time we put an end to it," my mother reasoned. My whole body tensed, so much so that I began shaking with all the suppressed rage that was just looking for a way out.

"It won't. It won't and it can't and nothing will keep me away from him! You're right in one sense: I love him. I love him so much - so much more than I have ever, will ever or could ever love you! You're nothing to me - you took my world and he gave it back! You buried me and he dug me out! You never noticed but he saw everything!"

"We know everything there is to know about you, Elizabeth!" She stood up then, yelling as loud as she possibly could. Challenging me… As if I would back down.

"Oh? Oh really? Well hah! Hahahahaha!" I was crazy by this point, laughing bitterly through my hysterical tears. "You fools! You know nothing about me - I'm pregnant! Hah, bet you didn't know that!"

Their horrified faces were the only response I needed. In that moment, I knew I was done with them. I spun on my heel, hands clenched into unbreakable fists by my sides, and stormed off.

I don't know how she found her voice, but she did. It was shaky and unsure, the shock apparent - but an empty threat. A warning, perhaps… In retrospect, it was more than a warning. It was a promise; an omen.

"Your love will kill you, Elizabeth! It will kill you!"

And that was the last thing she ever said to me.

The doors slammed shut behind me, and I fell straight into his arms. Of course he was there; he was always there. I didn't question it at the time, just cried and cried into his chest. He knew exactly what to do, as he always did. Jishou scooped me up, picking up my already packed suitcases, and we left. And we never came back.

--

Years passed. Years of happiness. I couldn't remember a single time I was sad, I never abhorred a single regret. It was bliss, absolute and total and complete bliss. Jishou never left me - we even married shortly after our baby son, Ryou, was born. Jishou finished university, graduating with a degree in science. And since, he became unbelievably successful. His assistant, Keiichiro Akasaka, was an especially delightful asset to his newly acquired research facilities that had been set up. Ah yes, Keiichiro was wonderful. We had tea together every day, oh yes we did. He always made it, and called the four of us together, and Ryou would eat snacks and play with his dog whilst the three of us talked and chattered about anything we could think of.

And with these new, good people around me, I lost my sarcastic, bitter, childish nature. And I lived. I truly lived for the first time in my life.

It was a shame that just ten years after my life had begun, it ended so abruptly.

It was a fire that did it. The flames were bright, burning intensely, uncontrollably. But I gazed at them with an unusual peacefulness. Jishou was in there still; the lab had exploded and he had yet to come out. I knew that was it, my time was done. Without him - the man that had granted me my life back - it wasn't worth it. I knew I had a son, but… it was a feeling. An impulse. Ryou would be ok, but myself? Well, I still have this gut feeling that if I'd tried to carry on living without Jishou, I would have died inside anyway. I wouldn't have been a very good mother.

It was selfish, wrong on so many levels for me to abandon this world, but it was also my choice. My life.

"Ma'am! Stop!" Keiichiro cried desperately behind me, clutching Ryou tightly in his arms. My son was unconscious; good, he didn't need to see this.

"Keiichiro," I called calmly, my voice a wondrous serenity against the roaring of the flames behind me. "Please take care of Ryou. I loved having tea with you every day."

I was smiling; smiling as I faced him, and smiling as I turned around again. Smiling, against all reasoning, as I stepped forward, on and on into the flames. Keiichiro's desperate pleas for me to come back faded into the crackling of the fire that then surrounding me. But even though the heat was suffocating and breathing was slowly beginning to become more and more impossible, I kept walking, sure of where I was going. Everything was burning, falling away where the flames had eaten through the structure. Somehow, I had managed to avoid it all.

Eventually I reached him. He was a picture of death in itself: his flesh was melting off his face, his clothes blackening and his hair almost gone. I was still smiling as I knelt down beside him. He stared up at me, his eyes filled with love and thankfulness. I tried to mirror his expression.

I can't remember how long we sat there, awaiting the end. But it soon came, and as my world turned black, one thought whirled round my head.

They said my love would be the death of me. Who knew they'd be right?

A/N: Any good at all? Confusing? A total mess? Or did I actually do a good job on this?

Let me know!