Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all goes to Hatori Bisco and all the people that can sue me.

A/N: (7/7) Wow, it's been awhile. Sorry! I got bored and decided to take a couple of dual enrollment classes at the community college for funsies and found that they stole a bunch of my time. I'll try to move faster though. But thanks to everybody for everything! Things are gonna get a little bit interesting. Btw, there's a flashback or two in there. I hope you don't get confused.

Chapter 7

Warmth, warmth, more warmth! for we are dying of cold and not of darkness. It is not the night that kills, but the frost.- Miguel de Unamuno

The sun beat down on the girl in front of the ramshackle building. To others, the heat was excruciating, but she could feel none of it. She couldn't feel the sweat pouring down her back or the burn forming on her brow. All she could feel was a bone-chilling cold that penetrated her, violated her. Her small, dirty hands pulled at the endless army of weeds, and the bruises all over her arms screamed in protest. She ignored them though. She was used to it.

A crow cawed above her, and she turned her face towards to sun, using one of her matchstick arms to shade her eyes. She smallest of all smiles crossed her face.

….

The sun gently illuminated the city with a graceful light. It warmed two pairs of identical faces, which looked down from the Houshakuji roof to the multitude of buildings and the swarming crowds of people. Identical frowns marred their faces.

Kaoru slid his eyes sideways to look at his brother. Sensing his brother's gaze, Hikaru did the same. "They're going to get worried about us," Kaoru whispered, as though afraid of breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Hikaru responded, and he laid his head against his drawn up knees, still facing his twin. It was almost like looking in the mirror. The same pale exhausted features that battled against the summer sun. Over the last several months, they had spent a lot of time on top this roof, but the UV rays couldn't penetrate their skin cells. A lack of sleep fought back any healthy tan that they might have had. The dreams…Hikaru pushed them from his mind. He didn't want to think about the images that haunted them every evening. The images that he knew were haunting the entire club. He groaned feeling the beginning pangs of an approaching headache.

A hand fell on his, squeezing it. He blinked, and Kaoru turned his attention back to the city, and he did the same. The sparkling river, the happy chatter of the people, the tall structure of the Eiffel Tower, the sun hanging over it all, shedding its warmth and light. Summer at its finest. Hikaru sighed. It had never looked uglier.

….

The sun reflected against the large fountain in the courtyard, sending diamonds scattering against the cement structure. They danced as the water gently churned, and a small blonde boy was lying on the cement bench that encircled it. The only noise was the sound of falling water, and the small boy sighed heavily. His eyes followed the bits of light dispassionately. He could feel the heat of the sun on his forehead, and he wiped some of the sweat away from it with the back of his hand. He remembered wistfully what he had been doing at this time last year. It had been summer, and he and the rest of the club had been at Karuizawa, competing in Misuzu-chi's "refreshing" contest. The echoes of their laughter bounced around in his brain, and he sighed again. Things were so much different now…

"Mitsukini," a deep baritone voice said, interrupting his musings. A dark shadow suddenly appeared, blocking out the sun and dousing him in shadow. A slow smile made it's way across the blonde's face.

"Takashi," he said, and he straightened into a sitting position and patted the space next to him. The gentle giant took the offered seat, and the two cousins sat in silence for a few minutes. Hunny could still hear the ghosts of their laughter. He turned his face up to the sun. Its brilliance etched itself into his irises.

A strong hand pushed down on his head, and the sun disappeared from his vision. He looked at his older cousin in confusion. "It's bad for your eyes," Takashi said, turning his attention back to the brown cobblestones on the ground.

Hunny blinked and then smiled. "I know." He turned his face back upwards, this time making sure that he wasn't looking directly at the bright white orb in the sky, and he wondered whether Haruhi was looking at the same sight.

….

The sun drifted into the room, casting square patches of light on the carpeted floor. At first it seemed peaceful, but then there was a crash as a heavy object was hurled against the wall, and a dark brown liquid started to stain the white carpet.

Anne-Sophie looked at the growing stain in surprise and shock, still holding the elegant tea tray. Tamaki put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. "Don't mind him, Mother," he whispered in her ear. "He isn't trying to be rude."

The blonde woman turned her face to look into her son's, and Tamaki could only imagine what she saw there. The bags beneath his red-rimmed eyes, the exhaustion. He felt her hand touch his cheek. "You all need to take better care of yourselves," she gently admonished in her bell like voice. She sounded concerned, and for a moment, Tamaki felt guilty.

He smiled, trying to reassure her, and he kissed her forehead. "Oui, Maman," he said before spinning her around and nudging her out the door. It closed behind her, and Tamaki groaned quietly before turning back to his best friend.

Kyouya was hunched over his laptop, his face haggard and exhausted. The blonde teenager noted with concern that his friend looked like a raccoon with his baggy eyes. He knew that the raven-haired teenager had been up all night again, searching for information. The entire room was covered with paper, anything and everything that could be useful. Maps hung on the wall, notes, pictures of a girl at all ages. A girl with the biggest brown eyes…

"Six months," a hoarse voice said. Kyouya took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Six months, and I haven't found anything." His voice rose at the last word, turning frustrated and angry. He stood and was still for a moment before snatching his stapler from his desk with a quick, manicured hand. Tamaki watched the object fly against the wall and bounce off of it, landing right next to the shattered coffee cup. There were a couple of tense moments before his best friend wiped a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, Otou-san" he said, the usual emotional coolness back in his voice. "I don't know why I did that." He turned his back to his friend to look out the window, and Tamaki couldn't see his face.

He walked forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's okay, Okaa-san." he said gently. "I know."

….

The sun temporarily blinded him as he stepped off the train. Ryojji used one of his arms to shade his eyes as he looked up at the bright European sky. She would have liked this, he thought, watching the clouds drift lazily across the blue sky. The bright white orb seemed to tremble, and he sighed heavily. He was just so tired…at least it would end today.

He stepped off the platform and left the station, walking into the street. He could feel the stares of all the people. They followed him in every direction he went, watching him. He knew he looked different. He'd caught a glance of his reflection in the train window during the trip. He looked broken. His hair had been shorn much shorter into a shaggy cut, and he no longer wore makeup. New wrinkles had etched themselves upon his face, and he had taken on a gaunt appearance, having lost a lot of weight in a short period of time. But the biggest difference was his eyes. His eyes looked dead even to him, and he simply exuded despair. Once he would have cared about that, but looks were so irrelevant now. He didn't deserve to look happy or beautiful or healthy. He didn't deserve to live. He wouldn't have to much longer. He just had to find them and complete his mission. It's what she would have wanted.

A passing officer looked at him suspiciously and changed course, jogging over. Ryojji stopped and looked at the man indifferently. "Excuse me, sir," the police man said, "but can I help you?" The man narrowed his eyes at him, and Ryojji nearly snorted. The man thought he was a street bum, marring the beautiful city with his very presence. In fairness though, the dirt and holes in his clothing didn't exactly scream decent society. He might make the tourists nervous. Whatever.

Ryojji almost rejected impatiently, and he opened his mouth to do so, but then he paused. Maybe the man could help. "As a matter of fact, you can," he said, his voice hoarse. The police man leaned closer to hear him. Ryojji took a deep, shaky breath. "How might a man find the Houshakuji residence?"

The police man's brow furrowed. "Why would you need to know that?" he demanded.

"Pardon me," a voice interrupted in Japanese. Ryojji turned around to see a Japanese man standing in front of a limousine. His slightly graying hair was neatly combed, and he hadn't seen a suit so expensive in months. The light reflected against he man's square glasses, and Ryojji felt a shiver run down his spine. Sitting in the limousine with the window rolled down was another man with brown hair and an expensive white suit. That man looked at him curiously, and Ryojii couldn't help but feel like they were rather familiar in some way. He knew that he had never met them before, but they reminded him of two people that he knew.

The man with the glasses pushed them up his face with his middle finger and smiled slyly. "I believe that I may be of assistance."

….

"Rene!" a gruff voice called out, and the girl winced from her crouched position on all fours above the weeds. A foot came out of nowhere and knocked her over onto her side before a hand stretched out and seized her wrist, pulling her to her feet. The greenish brown grass and the blue sky blurred as she was spun around, and her back was slammed into a wall. Another hand reached out and took hold of her thin neck, pinning her against the brick. Rat like eyes came into her vision, and Jakkusa's face was inches away from hers, blocking out everything else from her vision.

The boy smirked at her. "Hey, priss." And suddenly foul lips were pressed against hers, and she squeezed her eyes so tightly shut that little white sparks started dancing behind her eyelids. Her arms hung uselessly at her sides as his tongue abused her mouth like it did everyday. She mentally cringed, but forced herself not to move. Don't do anything, she reminded herself forcefully. Just stand there. She had learned very quickly that resistance held consequences. One black eye and a broken wrist had taught her that very quickly. She stubbornly refused to respond, however, and she thanked every deity that she could think of that he never violated her further. His hands always stayed on her wrists and neck, and his mouth never moved from her face. Of course this was all part of the bastard's little routine. He liked the girls he tormented to initiate the action themselves. It made it all the more humiliating for them, and it kept him out of trouble. Her heart beat began to speed up with dread as Jakkusa sighed against her mouth. And here came the rest of his routine.

The bastard pulled away, and his hand traveled from her neck up to her hair. He pulled it fiercely, nearly drawing tears to her eyes, but she forced them away. He liked to do that now that it was longer. He hadn't done it several months ago when it was short, but now that it reached past her shoulders, he seemed to find it funny. She glared up at him, her face full of loathing and disgust. The boy smirked evilly and winked. "So, priss," he said in cocky, suggestive tone of voice, "is tonight going to be your lucky night?"

Rene closed her eyes and opened them, drawing on whatever courage she had. Don't do it, a voice in her head warned her, but she once again ignored it. She spat in the bastard's face. Jakkusa jumped away from her, yelling curses as he wiped his face. "Drop dead," she said firmly, clenching her fists, but on the inside she was panicking. Why oh why had she done that? Things were going to get much worse now.

Her prediction came true when a hand came out of nowhere, and she threw her hands up in a fruitless attempt to block the blow before a fist came crashing into her skull. She fell to the ground and immediately curled into a fetal position and covered her head, anticipating his next move. A heavy foot slammed into her stomach, and she cried out in pain. Tears began forming in her eyes, but she didn't raise her head.

Heavy footsteps started walking away, their thuds reverberating through the ground beneath her ear. "Maybe tomorrow, eh, priss?" he laughed. There was a soft crack, and Rene cringed at the sound. Jakkusa tutted. "Oh, dear. Whatever did you do to these tools? Biru is going to be so angry with you."

Rene immediately rose to her hands and knees. Her eyes found the broken wood to the gardening tools lying in the grass. She stared at them in horror for a few seconds before turning to Jakkusa. "You bastard!" she yelled, and the boy just left laughing. His guffaws only made her even angrier, and she wanted more than anything to take the head of the broken spade in her hand and chuck it at his dirty, brown head.

She picked up the pieces and looked at them, her eyes wide and piteous. She was so dead tonight. Although they weren't even decent tools, Biru was always looking for some excuse to punish her, and Jakkusa was only too happy to help him find excuses for him to do so. They worked as a team in that way.

The fists raining down on her, leaving bruises everywhere they hands landed. She tried to fight them off, but they were so much bigger than her, and she only irritated the man. She heard laughter a few feet away, and she vaguely recognized it as Jakkusa's.

"Stop," she weakly cried, but it did nothing as usual

Rene shook her head. Don't think about those kinds of things, she scolded left the broken tools in their pile and went back to pulling at the weeds. Six months since you've been here. You should know not to do spit at him anymore. It certainly did nothing to help her. All that it ended up accomplishing was getting herself hurt even worse, but some very annoying part of her wanted to fight back. It didn't want to just take the treatment like the smarter part of her said she should. It seemed like her past self was talking to her, trying to get her into trouble.

She looked around to make sure that nobody was watching before lightly touching the vase pendant through her shirt.A wave of sadness washed over her, and she sighed. She still had no memories and no idea who she was. She closed her eyes and searched her mind, as she often did. All that came before her though were the outlines of seven figures. The first couple of times she'd tried this technique, she'd been able to see them, but they were always blurry and never in focus. She remembered the distant sound of laughter and the smell of roses, but that was the extent of her findings. No matter how hard she tried, she could never coax anything else out of her mind. And life at Orphanage 3 had only been getting more and more unbearable. She gently rubbed the growing lump on her head. That kind of treatment wasn't unusual. As time went by, she'd steadily gotten used to the foul treatment. The forced kissing, the casual blows, the minimal amount of food, the lack of friends, the occasional ruthless beating, the verbal abuse. All of the kids in the orphanage were subject to some kind of mistreatment, but none so much as her. She could ease the pain of it if she were desperate enough, but she had too much pride for that.

Jakkusa seemed to rule the entire orphanage. For some reason, he was Biru's favorite, and the people he liked, Biru liked. But the people that Jakkusa liked did favors for him. Rene's empty stomach rolled at the thought of it and at the memories of the various grunts and cries that interrupted the quiet of the night at Orphanage 3. It was for that reason that she was the one that everybody ignored. She refused to give into his demands. It probably would make her life a lot easier, but the very thought of it disgusted her. She wasn't so desperate that she would submit to that.

Suddenly she heard the sound of loud and heavy footsteps. Rene's heart started beating really fast, and she looked up with fear etched into her face. The large, drunken man was clumsily bounding towards her. "Girl!" Biru bellowed.

Rene's blood ran cold, and she scrambled to her feet, instinct telling her to get away as fast as she could. She started to run, but she was so slow, and the man was so much faster. A hand took hold of her ankle, and she cried out as she fell to the ground. Her hands broke her fall, but her knee fell on top of a sharp rock, bruising it. Nonononono, her mind screamed uselessly as her fingers clawed at the rough ground, and her body was unwillingly pulled backwards. Her body was rolled over, and she was suddenly facing the sky when the blows began to rain down on her. They were slaps at first, and each one stung a bit more than the last. She threw her hands up to protect herself, but since she had her eyes closed, she had no way to predict where they were coming from.

"Useless girl," he growled with a drunken slur. "First burning the breakfast, than bullying your fellow tenants, and now purposefully breaking my tools?" She felt her glasses fly from her face, and she wanted nothing more than for the abuse to just end. "Bratty, spoiled slut. Have you no respect for anything? I suppose because you used to be rich, you think you can just break whatever you want and get away with it. God, I hate your type." Stop, just stop, she mentally pleaded, and just as she though that a large fist connected with her left eye. Cold…so cold. And dark. Really, really dark…

….

Tamaki walked into Kyouya's closet. His had been decorated much like his was several months ago, and like him, he hadn't felt the need to change much of it. Suits lined both sides of the wall, and but he ignored the jackets and instead chose a pair of black slacks and a white button down. As he walked out, he paused and snatched a solid black tie from a shelf.

His best friend was sitting on the large bed, holding his glasses limply in his hand. He was staring absentmindedly at the ground and slowly leaned back until he was lying on the bed. He closed his eyes, and Tamaki sat down next to him and waited. He knew that his best friend needed a moment to collect himself. Kyouya needed it to look like he was in control, and he would have never have let the others see him like this. He knew that they depended on him to be sure and together. What he didn't realize was that they wouldn't think any less of him.

A smooth drawl startled him out of his thoughts. "You didn't sleep either." His best friend said. It wasn't a question.

Tamaki looked at him surprised, eyes wide. "H-how-"

Kyouya sat up. "I've know you for years. Your fake smile doesn't fool me." His coal eyes zeroed in on his as he slid the metal frames of is glasses onto his face. "What was the dream this time?" he asked, getting to the point.

Tamaki sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his chin in his cupped hands. "The usual," he said, abandoning all pretense. He closed his eyes, and he could see it all again. Weren't you supposed to forget your dreams after you'd had them? He had thought that, but his tended to follow him. He was able to call up every image from the dreams he had. They were different sometimes, but usually it was that night. It was like reliving it. He had her hand in his grasp, and he could feel slippery sweat that ran between their hands, and he could hear her screaming.

Beside him, he heard Kyouya say, "You could borrow some of Mori-senpai's sleeping pills."

Tamaki opened his eyes and shook his head. "No, that's fine. The dreams hurt, but…" they're the only times that I can see her, he finished in his head. He knew that the rest of the club had dreams to. Every single one of them. Mori's had gotten to the point where he needed to use a sleeping pill to get some rest every night. He still had his dreams, but he was at least able to stay under the blanket of sleep while on the drug. Tamaki, though, knew his own body and how he reacted to medication. If he took the pill, then he wouldn't have the dreams anymore. And if he didn't have the dreams anymore, he wouldn't get to see her.

Kyouya nodded next to him. "I know," he said, as though reading his mind, which he always seemed to be able to do. " But I'm fairly sure that that behavior is destructive in some way or another." He reached over and took the clothing that Tamaki had gotten for him.

Tamaki, who was already dressed, turned around, giving his friend some privacy. "Anymore than the insomnia?" A sharp whack hit him in the side of the head, and he turned around, holding a hand to it. "Hey!"

"It's not insomnia," Kyouya said, glaring down at him, now fully dressed. "Idiot." The raven haired teenager spun on his heel and walked out the door, and Tamaki leapt to his feet, jogging after him. "Mother is so mean!" he cried in a high pitched voice and returned to his normal buoyant self. Haruhi wouldn't want them to despair during her absence.

As the two of them left the room and started walking down the hallway, a maid paused as she was carrying fresh towels to the bathroom. "Oh, young masters," she said, bowing, "If you are hungry, the cook has just finished breakfast."

Kyouya simply raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Very well."

Tamaki stepped forward, taking the woman's hand. "Thank you so much, my princess," he cried in a flowery tone. "Your consideration touches the very center of my humble soul." He tossed his hair in a princely manner and kissed her hand.

The maid blushed. "I-I-it was n-nothing," she stammered with a shocked face. Tamaki gave her a dazzling smile, and the girl scurried away, clutching her chest and breathing hard.

Kyouya rolled his eyes in exasperation as the blonde bounded up to him. "Come on, you moron," he said in an annoyed tone, but Tamaki could detect the underlying affection. He laughed lightly and heard footsteps. He turned around to see the twins walking towards them with a bored expression.

"Hikaru! Kaoru!" he called, and they too rolled their eyes.

"Tono, what did you do to that poor girl?" Kaoru asked as they started walking with the identical red heads. "Her nose was bleeding."

Kyouya lightly chuckled. "It seems like the maids still aren't used to our King's charms."

Tamaki spun in a circle. "I must say, it is not surprising!" He cried, gesturing wildly. "After all, art should always take one's breath away."

The twins ignored him. "So in other words, you're saying that he was acting pervy toward her?" they said simultaneously.

"No! I was doing no such thing!"

The two rolled their eyes and continued walking, albeit rather slowly and tiredly. They must have had dreams last night too. He and Kyouya hadn't been the only ones who were affected by their princesses absence. The twins teasing had gradually decreased in their enthusiasm, and they had taken to a perpetually bored attitude. It was almost like they had reverted back to the people they were before they had joined the Host Club, except for the fact that they weren't as isolated as before. Now they spent the majority of their time in the company of the other club members, but it still saddened him to look at how much they had changed without their "toy".

Hunny and Mori had changed in their own ways too. While Hunny still kept up the Lolita-shota attitude, he had gotten much more serious in the last few months. He spent a lot of time in the Houshakuji gym with Mori, practicing his martial arts, and his level of enthusiasm for life had also dropped. Then there were the times late at night when the club had gotten tired of keeping up all their acts, and they would all gather in the drawing room with no other light than the fireplace. They would all sit in the plushy armchairs in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts, and Tamaki would often catch his senior staring into the fire with a slightly dead look, while the flames reflected in his large brown eyes.

Mori, surprisingly, much worse at hiding his fear and anxiety than his cousin. He was so hesitant now. Once, Mori was a doer. He had faith in himself, and he did what he felt was best in every situation. But losing Haruhi had deeply affected every ounce of self confidence he had. He hesitated before he did anything. It was subtle: moving his body to do something only to stop short, second guessing every decision he made. And sometimes, Tamaki would see him stare at his hands with an expression of guilt as though he were the one who had let Haruhi fall.

Tamaki sighed. They needed her back.

The club reached the bottom of the elegant staircase, but instead of walking towards the dining room, they turned left and entered another room through a pair of double doors. It was the room that he and Kyouya had been in earlier that morning, and it was the room that the Host Club met every single morning. Hunny and Mori were already there, and the small blonde leapt to his feet, while Mori stood much more slowly.

"Good morning, everybody!" Hunny cried, waving an arm back and forth enthusiastically.

Hikaru snorted. "What's so great about it?" he mumbled.

"Be nice to your brother!" Tamaki cried as he took his seat in the dark red armchair near the window. He noticed that the stain in the carpet had completely disappeared. It seemed that the maids had gotten to it in enough time. He looked around the room. Every inch of wall space had been covered. The large desk was overflowing with stacks of paper full of all kinds of information. He reached over and randomly grabbed a sheet of paper, glancing over it. It seemed to be Haruhi's dental records. He wearily placed it back in the stack and ignored the pictures staring at him from every age and angle. At first having her image staring at him had bothered him, but he had gotten used to it now.

Kaoru was looking at one of them now. He noticed sadly that it was one from one of their many Host Club activities. She was wearing her cute smile, and Hunny-senpai was clinging to her, hugging her around the waist. She looked so happy.

"Anything new, Kyou-chan?" the said blonde boy asked.

Kyouya sighed. "Nothing much." He picked up a small pile of paper and handed it to Hunny. The rest of the club looked over the smaller teen's shoulders. Tamaki felt his face fall as he saw the list.

"Names?" Mori said. He looked up at the other raven-haired teenager with an indifferent face, but Tamaki saw how his senpai's posture had slumped a bit at the insignificance of the information.

Kyouya nodded. "Just some of the names of Kotoko Fujioka's old coworkers. She might have taken refuge with them," he said, but the way he said it showed how unlikely he thought that was. In other words, just more superfluous information. Tamaki fell against the back of the armchair. He wondered how Haruhi would react to all the information they had if she were here now. She would probably be mad that they had pried so deeply into her life like that. However, if she were there, there would be no reason for all of it.

A loud knock interrupted their silence. Kyouya looked up. "Enter," he called, and the door opened to reveal several men carrying trays of food. The men placed the plates on the coffee table and arranged the various silver wear around it. Another servant entered, looking nervous.

"Erm, Ootori-san?" he said, and the Host Club groaned. Not this again.

A deadly glint entered the Shadow King's eyes, and he held out his hand in resigned expectation. The servant grimaced before pulling an envelope from his suit jacket and handing it to the teenager. Kyouya's glasses glared in the light as he used his pale white fingers to open the envelope and pull out a sheet of paper. He scanned it quickly, and the room watched in silence. The quiet stretched out for a few moments. "I refuse," he said firmly and loudly, snapping his fingers and holding out his hand. Kaoru reached into his pocket, pulled out a small lighter, and placed it in the Shadow King's waiting hand. Kyouya pressed the trigger, and a small flame came to life at the end of it. He brushed it against the corner of the white paper and let fire eat away at it. The paper blackened and rolled, crinkling as though it were trying to escape the flames. He tossed it into the fire place, where it continued to crackle and burn.

Tamaki watched it smolder. "So what did he want this time?"

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "To come and stay at the Ootori mansion and learn more about keeping the family business. Alone, of course." He turned to look at the fire, so Tamaki could only see his back. "In other words, the usual."

"So you did receive my letters," a cold, imperious voice said. Kyouya spun around to see who had spoken. Standing in the doorway was the author of the letter. Yoshio Ootori's glasses glinted slightly as he looked at each member of the room individually. He then focused on Kyouya and crossed the threshold of the room. "Is it really too much to ask you to come home?" he said in an annoyed, exasperated tone. But Tamaki noticed that there was something wrong with his voice. It wasn't as brisk as it normally was, and there was something in his eyes…pity?

Kyouya crossed his arms. "Are they permitted to come with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ootori opened his mouth and was about to speak, but another voice interrupted him. "Aren't there more important things to discuss right now, Ootori-san?"

A very familiar man walked into the room. Tamaki's eyes bugged out of his head. "Father? What are you doing here?" The man didn't respond, but he looked at his son with such a sad expression. He thought he could see tears in his father's eyes. Tamaki's eyes widened. He had never seen his father like this. Suddenly Tamaki was very worried. Something was wrong. "What's going on?" he asked frantically, looking back and forth between the two adults. His friends rose to their feet behind him, confusion written on their faces.

Kyouya's father closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up his face, looking for a moment exactly like an older version of Kyouya. His eyes met his son's, and they didn't waiver. "Souh-san and I ran into an acquaintance of yours today, and we naturally lent our services." His voice was heavy, and Tamaki knew that Kyouya had detected the change of tone too. The man sounded so old.

Kyouya blinked in surprise, and his eyes narrowed. "And which acquaintance would that be?" Kyouya asked suspiciously.

The two men stepped aside simultaneously, and another man walked into the room. He looked so different, but Tamaki could still tell who it was. There was a collective gasp from all the teenagers.

"Ranka-san?" they all cried simultaneously.

The man gave them the smallest of small smiles before Tamaki, Hunny, Hikaru and Kaoru ran up and seized him, drowning him in a group hug. Kyouya and Mori moved forward with hopeful looks on their faces, praying that this man would be the key to finding what they were looking for.

Yuzuru Suoh caught Yoshio Ootori's eye and nodded his head toward the door. Ootori blinked in understanding, and the two adults exited the study. Suoh paused on his way out, looking sadly at a picture of the girl. So young…He left the room, feeling coal black eyes following him on his way. He internally cringed. The third Ootori son was too smart for his own good.

As soon as the two of them had vacated the room, the servants moved together to close the double doors. They shut with an ominous click, but both adults stood there, staring at the doors, knowing what was happening inside. Further away in the mansion, Suoh could hear a young girl's anguished cries. They were messy and shrill and clogged with tears. Next to him, Ootori closed his eyes. They knew that it was going to be worse for their sons.

Suddenly, Anne-Sophie burst into the room. Her vibrant blue eyes were wide and panicked, and she looked terrified as she ran up to the two businessmen. She clutched Yuzuru's sleeve. "The Houshakuji girl is hysterical! What did you say to her? What's wrong? What's happened?" she cried. She was clutching the sleeve so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Yuzuru wrapped his arms around the French woman and held her close, stroking her hair. He sighed heavily. "The children…"

"What about them?" she demanded, looking up into his eyes. They were overflowing with worry.

Ootori turned towards them. "Fujioka's daughter is dead," he said emotionlessly. His eyes were focused on the door, never moving.

Anne-Sophie gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes. "No…" she whispered, shaking her head. Her mind immediately leapt to her son. Her son who cared so much about that poor, poor girl. "How can you be sure?"

Yuzuru used his fingers to brush away her tears, but they fell too fast for him to keep up. "The man saw her body himself."

"They were killing them in my hospital," Ootori growled, dropping the cold, unfeeling mask. The man's lip curled in disgust. "In my hospitals."

More tears ran down Anne-Sophie's face. "The poor girl," she breathed.

Suddenly, a heart wrenching scream came from the room, making all the occupants of the hallway jump. "NOOOOOOO!" it wailed, and Anne-Sophie felt her heart constrict at the pure anguish in that yell. There was a crash, and she pushed past the men and threw open the doors with Ootori and Suoh right behind her.

The coffee table had been upended, and tea cups rolled around on the floor as the tea and food stained the carpet. One of the red haired boys was on his feet glaring at the poor father, barring his teeth. His fists were clenched. "YOU'RE LYING!" he bellowed, desperation raking his voice. "SHE CAN'T BE!"

The father looked at him calmly. "I saw her myself," he said simply as though he had already accepted it.

Tears welled in the boy's eyes and poured down his face. He kicked the leg of the table, splintering it. "Damn it…" he sobbed much more quietly. "Damn it." He sunk back onto the couch, and his twin threw himself into his arms, and they clung to each other like lifelines, sobbing.

"No, no, no, no, no," the other twin whimpered, burying his face into his brother's shoulder.

Next to him, the Haninozuka boy had slid to the floor. He'd drawn his knees up to his chest and pressed his hands against his ears as though trying to keep himself from hearing anything. He had tears too, but he released them much more quietly. He turned his face from Ranka. It seemed like it was impossible to look at him, the man connected to the girl's death, who had actually seen his friend's corpse. Tiny hiccups escaped his lips no matter how hard he tried to restrain them. He looked so much smaller and younger.

The boy's cousin was hunched over in his seat, gripping his hair and rocking back and forth slightly. She had never seen a person of this size and strength break down before, and it was scary just how powerless the usually strong boy seemed. Helpless. He stopped rocking for a moment and pulled his hands away, and Anne-Sophie could see the red-rimmed eyes and the desolate expression. His eyes met hers, but she could do nothing else but stare at his sorrow. The boy turned away and focused his gaze on the window as though trying to find some way to get away from the utter tragedy.

At the other end of the room, Ootori's son was leaning against the wooden desk. His body was somewhat slumped, and he had a single hand gripping his face. His glasses had been left on the table, and the boy was at his rawest form. He was shaking in his sadness, and she saw that he wasn't crying yet, but it was only a matter of time. He seemed to be trying to hold himself together in all of this, but he was failing. His stone mask seemed to be cracking, creating zigzagged lines across the normally smooth surface. "Gone," she heard him mumble brokenly, and beside her, she felt Ootori's body stiffen.

Finally she turned towards her son, terrified at what she might see. Tamaki sat in another desk, and he hadn't moved the whole time. He stared disbelievingly into the grain of the dark wood, and his eyes were wide and dazed. His hands were violently shaking. It was as though his mind hadn't fully grasped what Fujioka-san had said. He shook his head back and forth in denial.

During all of this, Fujioka stood up. He looked at them all with a sad, yet warm expression. "I traveled all this way…because of her. She-she would have wanted you all to know." The children looked up at him with tear filled eyes, and the older man's began to well up too. But he had a tiny smile on his face, and he sniffed. "You know…you were all very important to her. So very important," he choked. "She loved you all dearly, and you know, she had never had that before. She was always on her own. Until she had you. I have to thank you for that." He walked forward and placed a hand on top of Tamaki's head. He didn't face them as he said. "You all gave her something special. You…made her enjoy life. You gave her something worth fighting for and worth loving." His voice broke at this part. "And if she had to go, I'm glad that it was after she had met you boys." His hand brushed through her son's hair as he walked towards the doors. "I could never thank you enough," he whispered, and then he disappeared through the doorway and out the Houshakuji mansion and out of their lives. Forever.

….

"Hnnn," she groaned, coming into awareness. Or further into unawareness. She never knew which was which anymore. All she knew was that her head was throbbing and that it was really dark, and she was still freezing. She almost cried when she realized that she still had goose-bumps on her arms. No…All she wanted was to be warm. She wasn't even sure that she remembered what that was like. To not have to briskly rub her arms to cause friction or to not have to huddle in a tiny ball every night because her blanket wasn't adequate. To feel the sun's warmth on her face but not feel it.

Words started to break through her groggy mind. "Wake up, hime. Come on now," said a smooth, drawling voice. A very familiar drawling voice…

She slowly and unwillingly opened her eyes. Right in front of her, very close to her face, was a shiny black shoe. It looked fancy, and attached to it was a leg. Her eyes trailed up the leg to see a body clothed in very fine and fancy formal clothing. It was white tie attire with a dark black tailcoat and a white low-cut waistcoat, which was accompanied by a matching bow tie and shirt. In the buttonhole of the tailcoat was a lavender boutonniere in the form of a rose. As her eyes continued to travel upwards, she noted that he had raven black hair and a cool calculating smile, but he still wore the mask like they always did. The mask, as usual, covered the entire top half of his face and hid his eyes from view. It was lavender to match the rose on his chest and was very simple with only a few elegant details to add beauty.

The man extended a hand to her, and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. He bowed to her. "Welcome back," he said warmly, and she smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, happy to see him. Those boys were the only nice things in this dark world. She took in her surroundings to see where she had woken up this time. The dark, elegant architecture, the high ceilings, the large, arching windows, and books. Book everywhere, along the walls, on the shelves, on the mahogany desks.

"We're in the second library," the man said, reading her mind. He offered her his arm, and she wrapped her arm around his elbow. He led her through all the shelves and the desks. The only light came from the moonlight through the window. It shone through, illuminating the ground and everything that it touched. The storm clouds that haunted the day always seemed to disappear at the nighttime. The utter lack of sun was enough to keep her world shrouded. The castle was always dark.

Suddenly, she heard a hissing noise. She turned her head toward the right, and on top of a tall shelf was a shadowy figure. It was crouched on all fours and had glowing white eyes that followed her as she walked. Before she could scream, the man leading her put a hand over her mouth. "They can't touch you while I'm here," he reminded her, and she wished that she could see his eyes. She had a feeling that they would make her feel better, but the mask hid them from her. The metallic taste of fear was still in her mouth, and her stomach was still churning uneasily. She continued limping along, and the man gave an exasperated sigh. "Really now," he softly scolded, and he placed himself between her and the monster, and he wrapped a thin arm around her shoulders. It felt odd and foreign, but she relaxed into the protecting embrace. That's right. She was safe as long as she was with one of the boys. They left the library.

They had to walk for awhile. Her body was so sore, and it ached terribly. That and her limp made her pace very slow, but the teenager didn't seem to mind. He walked patiently with her and made no comment. It was a very pleasurable silence, and he never removed his arm from her shoulders. She smiled slightly. It was almost like being cared for. She had forgotten what it was like since the last time she'd left this world. The other one at the orphanage was so lonely and miserable…

"That's new," the boy said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him confused. "Pardon?" she asked.

He carefully reached out a hand, and with two fingers, gently traced the very edges of her eye socket. It didn't hurt, but she realized that it was puffy and swollen. She sighed. She must have a black eye.

He removed his hand. "The usual culprit, I assume?" he said coolly, but she could hear the brewing anger beneath his words.

"That would be correct," she said, not looking at him. She was still ashamed of the abuse that she suffered. She felt helpless and weak whenever she thought about it. All the blows and all the bruises. She hated how powerless she was too it. Her eyes found the ground, and she kept her gaze on it as she walked. So far, none of the boys had judged her for her wounds, but she couldn't help but feel embarrassed. The boy didn't respond.

He led her to a pair of glass French doors that opened out to a large balcony. He removed his arm from her shoulders and instead took her hand before pushing on the golden door handle and gracefully opening the door. Still holding her hand, he guided her onto the balcony, where she could see the moon and the stars. They winked down at her with their light, penetrating the darkness. She sighed heavily longing for one. A patch of light that she could carry around with her. One that she could even bring into the other world.

Sadly, she reached into her ratty dress and pulled the gold chain out. She held onto the vase pendant, staring at it.

"Where is that family you say you've got, pigeon?" She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep his words from reaching her. The taunting. "It's been months. One would think that they'd have come for you by now." Maybe they were having trouble finding her. She couldn't even remember who she was. It had to be really hard to find somebody with no name. Right? "They've probably forgotten all about you. You couldn't have meant that much to them," Jakkusa's voice mocked.

She opened her eyes, and they were full of sadness. Maybe he was right. For all she knew, she probably didn't even have a family anymore. Six months had passed. Surely if somebody were looking for her, she would have heard something. Maybe they were dead or maybe…she didn't want to think about it, but maybe it was possible that she truly had been forgotten…

"You're rather quiet tonight," the boy next to her said. She turned towards him in surprise. She squeezed her necklace. "Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question.

The precious metal of the pendant dug into her skin, but she tightened her grip despite the pain and turned her face away from the black-haired boy's. She didn't want him to see the sorrow in her eyes, but she couldn't help but answer him. The fact that somebody was talking to her without making fun or without malice was too unusual for her now, and as much as she wanted to keep her fears to herself, she found that she had to show them to this comfortable boy next to her. Gazing out onto the grounds, she said, "I have…doubts."

"About?" she heard the boy as curiously, and she turned back to him, slightly lifting the chain of her necklace to show him the pendant. The boy touched it, holding it between two fingers. "Ah," he said before dropping it and letting it fall against her neck. The blue vase bounced slightly against her flat chest. "You're letting them get to you," he said, turning his face to look up at the endless black sky.

She blinked in surprise, and she felt the sting of tears in the back of her eyes. "I'm not letting them do anything!" she cried irritably. She'd hated the way he'd said that. Mostly because it might be true. But what they were saying…"I mean," she said much quieter, "maybe they're right. It's been a long time, and I haven't been able to remember anything. And nobody's come for me. Maybe," she looked up at the stars. They seemed so lonely up in that dark expanse. "Maybe nobody will. Maybe there's nobody out there for me."

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes letting that information sink in. She felt a sort of hollowness in her chest now that she'd said the words out load. It made them seem so much more real.

"You know, that's interesting," the raven-haired boy said. She whipped her head around. "You didn't strike me as the kind of person that just gives up on people. It's quite disappointing, actually," he said coolly.

How dare he? "I'm not giving up on anybody!" she cried, her voice rising. How could he judge her like that? It wasn't fair.

"Then what exactly would you call it?"

She opened her mouth again to speak, but hesitated. There really were no other words for it. She was just so tired. So tired of the cold, the darkness. The pain. Being hurt over and over again. The loneliness. The tears started to pour out of her eyes before she could stop them. She hated it all. She wanted to go back…but back to what? She had nothing.

Her black-haired companion looked at her as she cried. He made no move to touch her or comfort her. So she buried her face in her hands as the water streamed out of her eyes. A deep wind rustled the trees, and her clothing and long hair billowed all around her. Some of the flowers from the taller trees were blown loose from their branches and flew gracefully around them, drifting weightlessly in the air like tiny dancers.

She suddenly heard a chuckle. "My, how the tables have turned," the teenager muttered, slightly amused. She pulled her face from her hands to look at him. He had a genuine smile on his face as he looked at her. It wasn't large or overly extravagant, but it was still warm and comforting. "You know, a very good friend of mine once told me that if I wanted to do something, then I should do so. It seems to me like you're the one who isn't trying hard enough." Her eyes widened to saucers as he continued. "If you want to have your family again, then go out and find it. Put your all into it and don't look back if it means so much to you! The one who's not doing anything and not giving up…is you."

Her mouth dropped open at his words. Her mind was having troubles absorbing what he'd just said. "B-but," she stammered, trying to make her mind and mouth work. "What about-" Their words. Their taunts. What if Jakkusa and Ern and Biru were right?

The boy took her my her shoulders in his urgency. "Don't listen to them!" he said, shaking her a tiny bit. "What do they know? The question is: what do you want?"

She gazed up into where she thought his eyes should be. What did she want? Her arms hung lifelessly at her sides as she thought about that. What did she want? She wanted…food, to begin with. She wanted warmth. She wanted to never be hit again. She wanted to not be sexually harassed day in and day out. She wanted decent clothes that kept the wind from biting at her pale skin. She wanted to look in the mirror and find not a single bruise. She wanted a touch that wasn't threatening, but gentle and sweet. She wanted people to look at her without pity or disgust. She wanted that hollow feeling in her chest to go away. She wanted someone to smile at her, and she wanted to be able to smile back with genuine joy. She wanted her memories back. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be cared for. To be safe and wanted. To belong. A home.

The boy released her shoulders and leaned against the edge of the balcony. "Do you understand now?" he asked gently.

She smiled at him, tears still running down her face. "I think I do," she whispered. Home, love, family. There was once a time she must have had them too. She couldn't abandon them. She would never be complete unless she found them. Would never be happy. "They're out there somewhere, aren't they?"

The boy shrugged. "It's always a possibility, but don't you want to find out?"

She did. She really, really did. "Thank you," she said in a heartfelt tone, trying to convey just how grateful she was. He'd given her hope, something that she hadn't felt in a long time. It filled her up, making her feel weightless with its power.

He bowed, his black hair falling gracefully over his mask. "It was, of course, my pleasure," he drawled, and he smiled at her too.

Suddenly there was a loud and sharp bang that pierced the night. The two of them jumped in surprise, and she spun around trying to find the source of the noise. It sounded like a gunshot. There was a sudden, agonizing pain in her chest at that moment, and she screamed. It seemed to pierce her right above her heart, and she clutched it, sinking to the ground. Every breath hurt, and it felt like a fire was burning within her, eating her. She screamed again. What was happening? "Oh, my God," she moaned through tears and clenched teeth. This was utter agony. "What's happening to me?"

The boy simply stared at her. "I think something bad just happened," he said matter of factly, as though making an observation. "God's finger touched him, and he slept," he breathed.

She was struggling to breath. "Wh-what?" she gasped.

He turned to her. "Lord Alfred Tennyson. Excellent poet, but I'm afraid that as brilliant as I am, English Literature is not my forte. Don't worry," he said, finally noticing her deep labored breaths and awful pain. "You'll wake up soon." He nodded toward the clock tower, which she could just see to her left. "Midnight."

Her eyes widened. "No…" Not midnight. Please…The spell always broke at midnight. Midnight meant more pain. Midnight meant leaving this dark and scary world for another. The one with the orphanage and her tormentors. "Don't make me go back," she choked, still gripping her chest. A heavy sheen of sweat covered her pale, way too thin body. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a cool hand wiped some of her tears away just as the clock started to gong. The chimes rang out across the grounds, and it felt like each one was another wound, stabbing her in the heart. She leaned into the hand.

"We'll be here," she heard the boy say, and just like that, her world shattered.

A thousand miles away, Ryojji pressed the barrel of the gun against his chest. He smiled, the first real smile he had used in what felt like years. He'd see his wife and daughter soon. He knew that they'd be disappointed, but it was too much for him. Haruhi was all that he'd had left, and now she was gone too. There was nothing else. He was just glad that he had been able to find the boys. That's what his precious daughter would have wanted. She had loved them so much. She would have wanted them to know her fate and accept it. He just hoped that they would handle it better than he was. At least they had each other…

He cocked the gun and pictured his daughter's face. "Haruhi…" The smile on his face grew, and he pulled the trigger, not knowing that across several oceans, a girl with large brown eyes was waking up.

….

Rene woke up with a groan. She kept her eyes closed though. She didn't want to be back, so she pretended she wasn't. But there was no denying the harsh, prickling grass under her body or the deep aches that she felt all over her body. She almost sobbed in sadness. She was back at Orphanage 3, and her dream was already fading. No! She didn't want to forget it. Not again. She grasped at it, trying to keep it from leaving her, but it was like trying to hold a water with your hands. It seeped through the cracks and away from her until there was only a little bit left. But that was enough for her. She felt a steely resolve take over her. She didn't have to stay there any longer, she decided. There was somebody out there thinking of her and waiting for her. And she would do anything in her power to find them. At all costs.

She was going to run away, no matter what the consequences were.