A/N: And Part 2 is finally up! Featuring the wonderful Celes arc that we all love. I personally think that Kurogane and Fai both realized that their feelings for each other were mutual during Acid Tokyo, but both (especially Fai) remained in denial throughout Celes. Oh CLAMP, you and your conflicted love plots just kill me. And make me write fanfiction.

This chapter is dedicated to Priceless93, because she sorta bribed me into this. It will probably be tweeked a bit later on, but for now, reviews, comments, concrit welcomed, as always.

Fai's POV, set in Celes.

Threadbare Excuses

II.

--

We land in Celes with a swirl of fur-trimmed cloaks, right in the middle of a snowstorm. The wind launches flakes against my exposed face, clotting my lashes, but that's all fine with me because I'm used to it. This is probably late summer anyways. Beside me, Syaoran and Kurogane flinch visibly as they feel the teeth of cold sink in.

(Home, sweet home.)

I feel Ashura all around us, in the air and in the ice and I want nothing more than to grab the two remaining people I care about in all the universes and teleport out of this wretched place. But I can't.

Why am I here? What the fuck am I doing back here?

Of course. Because it's my fault again. Because I made the mistake of miscalculation. Oh! Sakura, my friend, my princess, my daughter almost- she would be proud of me now, wouldn't she?

For once in my life, I'm not running away from anything. I'm here in Celes, with every intention to kill the king.

I feel so proactive. So proactive and assertive and afraid.

(I'm probably going to die, you see.)

We've landed at the outskirts of town. In the sky above the horizon, Ruval castle on its wings of crystal is barely visible through the torrent of snowflakes.

I remember the days when I walked through this very same street, trudging through layers of crunchy fresh snow, while the people passing by paused and bowed to greet me. They laughed, delighted that the high mage was passing in front of their humble homes, and reminded me that if I ever wanted cinnamon cocoa, all I had to do was visit. I recall declining politely, even though the windows glowed with the invitation of warmth.

How much things have changed since then.

Beckoning to the rest of the group, I lead them to the nearest house, pushing the unlocked door open on splintering hinges and praying that there wouldn't be a corpse inside.

(There isn't, thank goodness.)

Pulling my heavy hood back, I glance around the room. It is mostly bare; the occupants must have fled before Ashura got to them. There is a snow-filled fireplace against one wall, and in front of it stand two cushioned chairs.

"Are we staying here?" Syaoran's dubious voice reaches me, his breath materializing as mist. I nod. His brow furrows in that determined way of his, and he starts, "Princess Sakura's body-"

(Remembrance. Guilt. Quite a horrible, sinking feeling, guilt is- water trickling down a rusty drain.

Drip, it goes.

Drip.)

"The king won't harm Sakura-chan's body for now," I say, looking away to the slate of white outside the window panes. "And he'll stop the blizzard when he wants us to approach him."

They stare at me blankly, seeking elaboration, but I close my mouth and leave it at that.

(I imagine piercing Ashura-ou's throat with an arrow of magic and blood spurting out from between pale lips and I think to myself, I can't do it, I can't kill him.

…Drip.)

There isn't much hesitation on my part though as I write the word fire out onto my canvas of air, and the letters shine brightly for a moment before igniting into embers in the fireplace. The cheery flame illuminates the room somewhat, and we all instinctively edge closer. It feels good to use my magic again.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Kurogane dust snow off his shoulders; he walks over to one of the chairs, looks questioningly at me- (what are you standing there for?), finally takes a seat, looks away.

After so many dangerous confrontations, it's the only thing I allow myself to do.

Watching him watch me.

(This dance- the avoiding, the stares, the unspoken things left hanging, dead in the space between us- it's getting tedious.)

Despite Syaoran's stammered protests, I sit on the ground beside Kurogane's chair and leave the remaining seat to him and Mokona. He stops me, however, when I offer him my outer coat.

"Keep it," Syaoran says, not unkindly. "The princess told us to take care of you, not the other way around."

I smile, of course, and mumble something about him being such a polite boy with none of my usual exuberance. I tell them to get some rest, that I will stay on guard, watch for the end of the storm, and wake them if anything happens.

I don't actually think that anyone would manage to fall asleep, but Mokona seems to be able to sleep on command, and Syaoran didn't have much time to recover from his battle with the automata. Even Kurogane's breathing evens after an hour or so, and I lean back against his armrest, listening to the wind wail beseechingly outside.

Left alone with my thoughts and weary, I watch the fire glow and melt the ice crystals cemented in the brick.

(I'm going to die.)

Tomorrow is the day everything that has ever begun will end. Ashura will close his eyes for the final time, and I'll join him in death. To be honest, it doesn't sound so bad, sleeping forever.

As long as it's a dreamless sleep. No towers, no kings, no red eyes.

I am so certain that I am going to die that I start thinking back on my life. My life, half of it spent wasted among bodies in a place without time.

(What have I accomplished? Nothing. What will I leave behind? Nothing. What will I regret? Nothing.

…No, wait, that's not true.)

I turn around from my place by the armrest and stare at Kurogane's sleeping face, watching the flickering fire chase shadows across his features, somewhat wishing to reach out but then feeling stupid for wanting such a thing.

He's always so silent when asleep. I've never heard him snore and he rarely tosses about. The only thing that shows he isn't awake is the soft rise and fall of his chest, and his undisturbed, almost peaceful expression. He looks so different when he isn't scowling or threatening to kill me.

Kurogane. A lot of things have happened after that close call in Infinity.

Right now, his blood hums gently to me, a suggestion rather than a demand. I find that I don't get as desperate if I obey the blood and feed regularly, which is never as often as Kurogane would like, but he isn't complaining as long as I don't try to starve myself.

I lean up and examine him silently, careful to estimate and maintain the inches that still separate our faces. The black stroke of his eyebrows, the sweep of his jaw up to the contour of his nose, the slight curve of his lips- staring longer than I should, ah, I want to touch him- will I regret not being able to see him after I die?

And then a more disconcerting thought- will he miss me?

(What a selfish, selfish person I am.)

I start to reach out, pause, but then I figure that all men on the death row have a plausible right grant their own last wishes- so I place two fingers lightly on his cheek and his skin feels warm to my fingertips even under my gloves. That should be fine, right? The only parts of us touching are separated by a layer of fabric.

Kurogane's eyes flicker open, immediately alert. A flash of red irises- he blinks once at my proximity and the hand that is now cupping his face; then he must see the resignation and defeat in me, because his expression contorts into something akin to pain.

A momentary stillness settles as we once again try to communicate without words, staring at each other, probing for something tangible and reaching for something truthful, but I'm not very good at that; after all, I am a word magician. And a liar.

Something shifts, and time passes with all the consistency of ripples on a lake; I turn away with my eyes downcast. He wants to say something, I can feel it, and in that one second I know I don't want to hear whatever it is he wants to tell me.

"Mage-" he starts, his voice low, and so intense with purpose that it rings in my ears. I glance over briefly at the sleeping forms of Syaoran and Mokona, and shake my head.

(I shouldn't have started this, I shouldn't have woken him up-)

Kurogane looks at me, keeps his gaze trained on mine, perhaps expecting for it to turn gold or perhaps waiting for permission to continue. Without thinking, I trace ghosts of circles with my thumb over his cheekbone and I watch, fascinated as he tilts into and away from the touch all at the same time.

He frowns. I stop.

"Mage," he tries again. "I promise-"

(Don't.)

"Now isn't the time," I interrupt quietly, smiling my faded smile. "We can talk later." And that's a blatant lie because we both know that there might not be a later.

Kurogane narrows his eyes and grips my arm with an alarming urgency. I wince, but I don't actually feel any pain, only the heat, the curled pressure of each of his digits around my arm. "Fai," he hisses unrelentingly, and I shudder at the sound of the name.

(No. I can't.)

"Listen to me," he says. "I-"

I raise a finger to his lips, cutting him off. I am not smiling anymore.

"Silence." My voice is cold.

For I know that if I let him continue, I would no longer have the urge to confront Ashura, no longer strive to save Fai, no longer covet death, because then I would have something real to live for.

He lets go of my arm, furious at me, and I try my best at the non-verbal communication by pushing all my hopes and fears and apologies into one glance, hoping the sentiment shows through, and I understand that it isn't enough, it would never be enough.

(But it's all I can give for now.)

But there's one thing left. I brush my fingers across his lips in a last caress and then pull back my hand, staring at the plain black cloth of my glove as if it contained all the answers to the questions between us. I press my fingers to my eye patch.

"If… I die, would you miss me?"

And I receive nothing but silence as a response.

Thundering heartbeat. I try to draw strength from my group.

The pair of golden eyes from my childhood turn to me as I push open the gilded door to the throne room. They watch me kindly, and in that moment I am face to face with dear death.

I choke. "Ashura-ou."

Syaoran and Mokona are on the ground, collapsed under the weight of pure murderous intent and the waves of magic radiating outwards. Ashura's eyes flick from them to me, where they rest for a moment- then to Kurogane, then back to me. I shift in front of Kurogane instinctively, and Ashura smiles.

(Possessive, aren't we?)

"Fai, you've returned to me."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to, my king," I reply, and then he takes a step forward and a spell washes over me, so powerful it makes the hairs on my neck stand up, covers me like a blanket and settles in the air like smoke.

"You left us waiting," he says.

I look up and see the mirror-panes of my memories surrounding us- (no, please don't) - and Ashura spreads his arm out wide to reveal the tiny body of Fai under his cloak. Fai stares at me accusingly out of caved eye sockets set in a wrinkled, pallid face and the mirror above us shatters into a thousand pieces.

Something in me shatters too.

(A bit of a beginning of the end, maybe, but I can't really think straight anymore because as scenes flash before me, Kurogane's eyes widen and Ashura keeps smiling his kind, loving smile.)

The shards of my past rain down.

(Night finds me in my twin's bed again, clutching his tiny hand in mine and staring at wide blue eyes so identical to my own. I press my forehead against his, our noses touching. Wordless communication, once upon a time. A time when I am not yet fluent in deceit.

"What is it?" I ask softly.

"Yuui," he whispers. "What will you do when you become king?"

"We'll become kings together, the two of us. Twin kings."

He flips onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, and his voice is muffled when he says, "But you're older than me. You're supposed to become the king."

I pull him closer. "Well," I say confidently, and how naïve I am, how innocent. "That'll be the first law I make. That you are also crowned king, so everyone will obey you too."

"Then the first law I make as king is that the birth of twins isn't a curse, but a good thing to be celebrated," he sighs sleepily into the silk of my pyjamas. "And the second law is that mothers can't leave their children, they have to stay and love them and be nice mothers. The third law…"

And I laugh in delight and look out the window, but clouds cover the stars.)

Fai, Fai! I'm on my knees, shaking, and Ashura stands before me benignly, waiting, waiting calmly for me to go to him.

And I do; the humiliation is unbearable, but I stagger towards him and he holds his hand out to me, and I grab it with my own. I kiss it. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurs to me that I might be drunk on a spell he's casting on me, but for now I'm just as entranced by him as I ever was. He lifts his cloak again and I take Fai in my arms and-

"You made a promise to me, remember?" Ashura looks expectantly at me through liquid amber, always smiling. He then says something else but I'm not listening anymore, because I turn around and see Kurogane, and everything freezes.

(He knows. I see the prison-tower and the blood and the truths fly past his eyes as I witness the memories replay like a nightmare, and I think in terror to myself, he knows, he knows my sins, and he glares at me with so much hatred that my heart sinks with despair.)

I hold onto Fai like a lifeline, trembling, coming apart at the seams- and when Kurogane snarls and draws his sword from the summoning circle I cast on his hand, another memory descends on us. I raise my arm towards him, magic gathering, crackling under my skin, and he points his blade at me.

(I am half undressed, sitting on the ground with my robes pooling around my lap, my legs crossed and my staff on the ground beside me. I'm positioned between two mirrors.

I am examining the new tattoo that adorns my back.

My eyes follow the intricate lines of the phoenix, from the crest down to the cleft of the tail, memorizing the patterns, wondering absently if there is the spell that gives you wings.

The air is chilly.

"Do you like it?"

Startled, I watch through the mirror as Ashura comes up behind me and appraises his handiwork thoughtfully.

"I do, your majesty. It's beautiful." My timid voice echoes back to me from vaulted ceilings.

Then he does something unexpected; he places one finger on the body of the phoenix, right on my spine. I gasp in surprise and arch back, biting my lip to keep from calling out and my body curves impossibly as that finger traces the column of my spine down, then back up again languidly, stroking each ridge. Shivering, I try in vain to grab onto the smooth surface of the mirror for support, and so instead I brace myself against the edges. The hand withdraws.

Ashura picks my robe up and wraps it around my shoulders steadily, as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. He steps back.

"I'm glad," he says.

He leaves, and I don't relax until the reverberation of his footsteps fade.

Sweat covers my palms, but it seems even colder if anything.)

I'm attacking Kurogane with all of my power, aiming to kill. The atmosphere is melting with energy, and with a sweep of my arm birds shoot towards him, shrieking and clawing. He knocks them away with his sword and comes towards me, closer- I really don't want him to die, but I guess there's no choice now huh, because he's in my way-

-and all I can feel is that damned drip-drip of guilt again, before it's overwhelmed with a reckless abandon because Kurogane hates me now, and that's all that matters. Funny, there's a time not long ago I remember, when I wanted him to hate me as much as I hated him.

I still hate him now, really…

(Hatred. The excuse is running thin, and I know it. That's my life in a nutshell: a fragile web of love and subsequent death held together by threadbare excuses. I can keep saying I hate him to the end of time and we'll still both know I'm lying.)

But I love Fai more. He's dead and rotting but I need to live for him, need to stay for the resurrection of his soul so I can return to him his name.

I can't die.

Ashura watches the battle, amused and knowing, waiting his turn, probably delighted that I'm so eager to kill the person that my soul is connected to.

Kurogane lashes out, his swing crushing more of my memory-mirror, and then he's right in front of me, his eyes hurting me more than any blade can. My breath hitches in my lungs.

"Get away from me!" I scream, my voice wrought with hysteria and my birds cut into him, throwing him across the room. He lands heavily beside Syaoran, and he winces as he climbs to his feet.

He's bleeding, I note. Because of me. The Thirst peers out but doesn't speak, now isn't the time.

He comes closer again, and I swipe at the air, a whip of magic composing itself but this time he's ready and his sword slices down, cutting Fai in half.

The heavy spell that hung over me dissipates immediately; I am thrown into a state of disorientation, and before I know it Ashura smirks and pulls the body of Sakura out of the lake.

Sakura. My princess. He has Sakura. He is going to hurt Sakura.

Well now, this changes everything.

Kurogane and I move at the same time.

(Ashura is tucking me into bed, as he does every night although I am already far past the age. The moonlight flooding in from the window shines on his raven hair and fractures in his ice-crown. He looks ethereal, and something within me stirs.

He arranges the blanket, brushes aside my bangs and kisses my forehead, and turns away to leave. Disappointment washes over me.

I don't know what I am thinking, but in a burst of boldness I sit up and hold onto the hem of his cloak.

"Ashura-ou," I plead hoarsely. "I'm not a child anymore."

He looks at me, sees my glazed eyes, the shameless blush on my cheeks, my raw yearning. He smiles and tucks a strand of my golden hair behind my ear, and I whimper.

"Ashura-ou…"

Bending down, he takes my chin and presses a chaste kiss onto my lips. My heart leaps up to my throat and I cling to the front of his robes, seeking more, but he removes my hands and shakes his head.

"Goodnight, Fai."

He leaves me in my room, and I almost cry in frustration.)

(Kurogane raises an eyebrow at me when he sees this last memory. I hope Syaoran and Mokona didn't see it…)

It's only one moment when my magic barrier around Kurogane sputters, goes out; and it's in slow motion that I see Ashura aim the icicle at his chest. Probably takes less than a second for it to pierce the air, cross the distance, hit its target, but for me it seems like an eternity and in my mind there's shouting, shouting so loud that I can't make out the words.

The icicle carves open Kurogane's side, and he falls soundlessly to the ground.

"…Kurogane!"

"Kurogane-san!" In the back, Syaoran struggles to pull himself into sitting position.

Ashura inspects me calmly, as one might inspect their nails, his hand still lingering near Sakura's throat. "Why," he murmurs, not moved in the slightest. "That man must have been quite an important person to you."

"You-" My voice cracks. Breathe in, breathe out.

(Hold back the tears; don't lose focus just yet- he's still alive, and he's strong, he can overcome it, he can't be killed by a thing like this- right? Right? He still has to keep his promise to me, he still has to kill me for calling him names and for wanting to die and I told him we would talk after this is over, so that he could tell me what he was going to say last night-)

And a hideous feeling I know well laces itself around my heartstrings; why, it's nice to meet you again, grief. Long time no see, how have you been?

(What do my feelings matter, after all, in the grand scheme of things?)

I lose precious seconds, shaking violently and in shock, torn between running to Kurogane's side, and killing Ashura for what he just did.

- (Trying to remember those healing spells I never learnt; a whole lot of good smiling will do now. Kurogane, I'm sorry I pulled you into this, I don't care if you hate me and regret saving me now and stop giving me blood, just be okay.)

With a burst of energy I rush towards Ashura, our magic colliding and sending chunks of the marble floor scattering across the room. I grab onto Sakura's arm, tugging her with all my might to me, and when she's out of harm's way, I leave her soulless body with Syaoran. The boy grimaces from the pain, accepts her with shaking hands. At least my princess will be safe for a while longer.

There is something wrong. Breathing and standing are becoming laborious tasks, and I can taste metal in my mouth. Ashura waits patiently on his pedestal for me to steady myself, to recover my magic.

I never do. But this can't go on any longer.

Kurogane lies motionless on the ground, the blood pooling.

"Your Majesty. Let us put an end to your wish," I say. "And mine."