Title: Ticking of a Clock
Day/Theme: Oct. 6, 2009 // They whisper, "Goodbye, goodbye," in a falling mist
Series: Tsubasa / xxxHolic
Character/Pairing: Syaoran, Clone!Sakura, Clone!Syaoran, Watanuki, Yuuko,
A/N: It was so hard choosing just one fandom for this prompt. D: The story might seem a bit vague and mysterious with random spoilers from all over the series and I hope that Yuuko at the end is in character.
Summary: It's a dance she learns, one step forward, two steps back. Sometimes she takes a jump, a stride, crosses a mountain before falling back down and having to start again.

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It's a dance she learns, one step forward, two steps back. Sometimes she takes a jump, a stride, crosses a mountain before falling back down and having to start again. Her memory comes in bits and pieces, a broken mug fixing itself, and sometimes the glue holds it together long enough for her to see part of the picture. A moment later it comes undone, a sandcastle in a wave, and she has to begin a new.

There are too many cracks and missing parts--she can tell that much by the fifth attempt. Some are feathers yet to be collected (it seems like an impossible task, catching a lifetime in the palm of a hand) and others are faces she can't see, distortions that are dizzying and blank.

(They cause aches and pains in her, something that is more worn out than her repairing mind, and something tells her this will never be fixed.)

She gets new memories, pieces of him and the other him that make the pain disappear for a while. It's almost enough to convince her to keep going on in this charade. Enough to move past the warning bell in her head, a warning of what is to come, and ignore it a little longer.

She still has time.

-x-

He is a clone, he realizes all to quickly. It's a surprise but not really, the truth sounding like old news in his ears. Something in his blood sang about the boy he was copied from, the soul that was lent to him so long ago. Even now, when he is coming to himself and realizing it all, it is more like a long-forgotten memory than anything.

(There is a shower following his steps, petals scattering in the tempest that he creates. They fall to the ground he has stepped on and will march over, as though trying to catch his very scent.)

-x-

Syaoran half-dreams of what would happen had he grabbed that hand. If, instead of hesitating, he had just pulled her to him. He can imagine the disappointment of failing in her eyes after, the thankful grin on her face immediately. He can see the grey hairs from eras going by and thinks that he made too many mistakes that day than can be counted.

He lead to the destruction of so many worlds, to the two clones that were puppets in a unseen scheme. There are so many things that could have occured because of that simple but deadly wish.

(The most heartful ones are the most dangerous.)

Mokona tugs on him to see what's wrong and Syaoran thinks (of Watnuki, of Kurogane and Fai and Mokona, of gods, of his parents and) maybe, just maybe he caused something right that day.

-x-

Watanuki isn't sure if he hates his sight. It's a give and take relationship, one that allows him to have met Yuuko and to have danced with fox spirits. He's eaten at resturants that no one else can visit and travelled wells of times and memories long forgotten. It almost makes up for the shadows creeping in each step and the continous fear of an anvil falling on his head, of his breath freezing over and his blood boiling.

It usually takes from him, this ability, drowning his sight with invisible clouds and clicking teeth. He can feel the claws sinking into his back some nights, the brushing of wings and death and things-that-cannot-be-named.

Himawari walks by, Tanapopo on her shoulder, and he decides to give this time.

-x-

It's nearly time, Yuuko thinks as she puffs another cloud. It hovers around her, deciding whether to go or no but the call of the world is too strong and the breeze pulls it away. Watanuki doesn't have a clue as to what will happen, nor does Fei Wang, for that matter. They both are clueless, one in more ways than the other but it is hard to decide who that is.

She puffs again, a carpet of mist rolling over the lawn. She's been here too long, seen too much. People she has touched are those that she never would have and she isn't sure if that's a good thing. Maybe, maybe not, but they gave equally back so all is fair, the price fully paid.

(All but her's, but it will come. It crawls towards her, slowly, ever so slowly, until it reaches her and she is amazed at how short a time that was.)

The air is full of smoke and butterflies and she thinks that now is the time. Standing up slowly, she goes to get ready, throwing a silent goodbye through the cloud. Where it goes, whether to the past when Clow left, to the present where the two clones are waiting for their choice, or to the future where Watanuki will break down, she has no idea.

She whispers it softly all the same, thinking that at least she can give this feeling one last time before she disappears for good.

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