Neo Fallen

Written by: Ciuline Ihmenjo

Card Captor Sakura does not belong to me. The characters in Card Captor Sakura do not belong to me. CLAMP owns CCS. Besides, even if you do try and sue me, I have no money.

Pre Fiction -

Okay, before I begin, I would like to say sorry for that last chapter if you did not like it, and no, I do not have a sick mind. What I do have is an overly active imagination that allows me to get beneath the nitty-gritty and get down to what I want to actually write. Those of you who continue to read, thank you for staying with me. I am going to keep this introduction short as you probably are dying to know what happened. After all, I'm not going to suddenly cut off with such a cruel cliffhanger. Also, I need to add that this chapter begins the second arc of Fallen Neo. So, please bear with my little quirks and my sketchy updating schedule. Schoolwork and fiction writing don't always balance too well. Secondly, I will be REUPDATING THIS CHAPTER IN THE NEAR FUTURE! I found a few things that didn't quite flow right, so please bear with me. I should have that version of the chapter up by noon tomorrow!

Thanks to you guys, 'cause I finally cleared 100 reviews. In the meantime, thanks to the following people for your reviews of chapter 9: Death Bringer the Angel; Dakbug; ima-bad-person, Sunnflower; Rena Moon; animeluver53; lil chipmunk; HEX; sexylilthing; Scorpinac; coca24cola; eyesofheaven; Helbaworshipper; pniaxrose; armageddonangel; Bayb-Munki; and HotBabe9632005

If you have any questions for me, please just add them to your review and I'll try and answer them as soon as I can. And remember: the author appreciates long reviews!

Italicized words are thoughts. Bold words are emphasis. CAPS WORDS are shouting.

Neo Fallen: Descry

When she was finally able to look up, there was blue above her. Not white paint peeling on plaster walls or a panting man supporting her body, crystal clear blue. She figured she was dreaming again. She had to be dreaming. The fact was that blue did not exist in her actual life. Her dreams were usually good and freedom usually followed that crystal blue sky. There was little way, in her mind, that she could be free from the grasp of the Houses. Her body was theirs; it had been theirs for more than six months. In those six months, she had given up nearly all hope of ever being free. And then the past burst forth from her memory. She remembered dragging her body to the window and then onto the narrow windowsill protruding from the wall. She remembered Sentry surging forward and then falling. After that, her memory failed her.

Seconds later, the pain slammed into her like a tidal wave, washing away any feeling of pleasure and swirling everything in her mind into a whirlpool of thoughts. It was a blinding white-hot sheet of agony that stripped the breath from her already burning lungs. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she almost lost consciousness. Shutting her eyes briefly, she tried to control her breathing and shove the pain into the back of her mind.

Her ears registered sound from a window about four stories above her. Her brain recognized it as the same window she had fallen from. The first voice made her glad that she could not find the breath to scream. It made her glad that her body was paralyzed from the sheer pain from the fall. The entire time, her heart was pounding in her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it would not go down. She couldn't shove those fears away; they refused to leave her.

"Damn…" Sentry said. She heard a loud noise and glass tinkled down around her. Small shards nipped tiny spots of pain on her bare skin.

"Is she dead?" She didn't recognize this voice.

"What do you think?" Sentry's words echoed off the brick. "She fell at least four stories and landed head-first in a dumpster." His tone turned sarcastic, "Is she dead…" he chuckled and silence pervaded the atmosphere.

"So, we'll get a replacement for her then?"

"As much trouble as it will be, yes, I guess I'll have to find another one." Something crashed in the room and she felt her body cringe out of reflex. "It's a shame, she brought in quite a lot of money."

Money? she thought, is that all that I am to them? She felt something beneath her shift slightly, sending her body tumbling into a green wall. Her head rang against it with a metallic clang and all was silent again. The only thing she could see was a world surrounded by a ring of fuzzy blackness and the green and rust coloring of the wall before her.

"So, what will we tell the boss? Another suicide?"

"Yeah, just get a garbage bag or something and stuff it with some pillows and a few weights of some sort. That should do for a body."

"Pillows and weights?" She heard someone swallow over the persistent ringing in her ears. "Why?"

"You want to go down there in broad daylight, grab a dead girl from a dumpster, and then drag her up five flights of stairs?" Another crash. "You moron! What if someone saw you? You could invariably expose the entire operation if someone called the cops!"

"Yeah… uh… pillows and weights… right."

"Oh, toss her sheets into the bag too, she won't be needing them anymore."

"Right…"

The shutters slammed closed, the sound bouncing off the brick like a gunshot. Sakura jumped at the sudden noise. And silence filled the air once again as both men went about their daily business.

She tried to sit up, but moving anything hurt too much. Her head throbbed from where she had hit it against the dumpster. One of her legs wasn't responding to anything that she wanted it to do. She couldn't tell which one over the fog that seemed to have settled inside her skull. Her arms hurt whenever she moved them. And then there was that pain radiating from the center of her stomach. Her hand twitched, this time without substantial pain. It's a start. She moved her arm slowly, inching toward the center of the wet spot where her shirt was pinned to her chest by some unknown. Finally she felt her hand come in contact with the object. It was cold and slick to the touch. Focusing her bleary-eyed stare on the object over the small hill of her breasts, she made it out to be a large shard of glass. Her hand was weakly wrapped around it, rivulets of blood streaming from the points that her fingers came in contact with it. She tugged gently on it and felt her hand slide off the object. A new wave of pain flashed into her mind. Her hand suddenly felt warmer. Stifling a sharp cry, she wrapped her hand in the only thing she could find: one lavender kerchief. Her body gave up with a defeated sigh and she looked up through the rift in the black plastic that surrounded her.

She finally took a moment to survey her surroundings. The entire area stunk of slowly decaying food. Her head was resting against something rather pointy. Shifting slightly, she managed to locate a slightly more comfortable position. She could feel a large block of tied newspapers where her left foot rested. Try as she might move her leg, the limb wouldn't budge. It was just as paralyzed as her left arm was. She finally gave up that exertion as well to the hopelessness of the situation.

"Right leg twitching… left not moving, may be broken. Right arm okay… left seems injured. Can't move it. My wrist hurts… my hand more… my head is spinning." Her words were slow and deliberate, each syllable escaping her body on a wisp of air. She let a smile grace her grime-streaked face. "But I'm free." She shut her eyes, sinking back against the garbage bags that had diminished the force of her fall.

Something from inside her body seemed to tingle as she began to drift off to sleep, the daylight still shining on her face as clouds began to move in.

The first two people to notice the sudden presence was a boy and girl in China.

He jerked in his seat, his entire body abruptly snapping to rigidity. The gaze that was once focused on the school assignment before him was now staring rather blankly out the window. A cup of tea was clutched white-knuckled in his hand. He was mumbling something under his breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked, observing the strange disposition that had taken hold of him with a curious expression. A clatter followed her words as she watched the cup he held clasped between his hands drop to the desk. And then she stiffened, feeling the odd sensation as well. She narrowed her eyes. A calm expression settled over her face. Her mouth formed into a round circle for a moment. "Oh… I see…"

"Sakura?" he asked cautiously. The pencil slid from his grasp to roll alongside the cup toward the edge. She could only stare, transfixed by the surge of power that flowed through her veins. No doubt existed in her mind that he was feeling it as well.

"What's happening?" The words emerged from his mouth almost in silence. He was still sitting at the desk, the cup of spilled tea rolling toward the floor. It fell finally, bouncing with a wet splat on the carpet before settling beside the pencil. The noise snapped her out of her trance. But he didn't care; nothing else mattered at the moment. Her voice was calling out to him for the first time in months, weak and coarse, but still the melodiously sweet sound of her voice. He managed to rise from his chair, stumbling forward a few inches before collapsing to his knees. One hand supported his weight. The other gripped the chair weekly. The carpet seemed to be rushing toward him. A startled cry echoed from inside the room and the sound of heavy footfalls on the carpet reached his ears. He knew she wouldn't reach him in time. Then his world went black.

The third person was watching her exploits on a television screen. The fourth was standing behind her with a pair of comforting hands on her shoulders.

"You felt it too?" she whispered. Two hands, jolted out of her lap, went to her shoulder to clutch the pair that was just moving from her body. She squeezed his hands softly while looking up, tears springing to her eyes. The first few droplets trickled down her cheek. She released him – arms flopping against the flower print on her couch – and stared into her lap.

"I didn't screw up, did I?" The girl paused. "She is safe, right?" Her knees were at her chest now, two feet propped up on the edge of the sofa. Two arms were wrapped securely around her legs, hugging them to her chest. She finally rested her head on her knees, the world turning sideways. Her long hair draped over her body, covering it in an ashen curtain. "Please tell me she's alright."

He raised a finger, pointing in the direction of the other two figures in the room. "Stay with her," he said sharply. He was already at the door, coat in his hand. One arm was halfway through the sleeve. His shoes were in the other hand. "That's what I'm going to find out. She's weak, that's not a good sign. Her magic is almost fluxing, like she can't control it." His coat was on in seconds as he rushed out the door.

He paused to flash her a brief, but worried smile. "I'll find her."

The last people who noticed it were the one who helped to raise her and the one who guarded her.

"Hey, you feel that?" He dropped his pencil watching it with only half-interest as it rolled to the edge of the desk and plummeted to the ground. Rising halfway from his seat, he began to shut textbooks and pile papers in neat stacks.

"She's hurt." The second looked up from his book and the sandwich he was eating. His bright eyes narrowed and shut as he stretched out his senses. "My other self says that she needs help quickly."

"I know." There was the sound of cracking knuckles he rose from the chair. "I was powerless to find her, maybe I can at least give those who took her the things that they deserve." The door opened slowly to release one from the small room, the other trailing only seconds behind. Both had their coats in hand. One fumbled for his keys while the other darted toward the stairwell.

But they all could sense that the girl they knew and loved would return to them at last…

Something woke her from her unconsciousness or slumber. It was impossible for her at the moment to distinguish between the two. Her body felt like it was on fire. If she were any hotter, she suspected that she would melt a hole in her plastic floor. Her brain had not yet registered the dramatic increase in temperature as a fever, or the chills that racked her body as signs that her weakened immune system had failed her. Some sickness was wreaking havoc with her body systems. Coughs sent her body into a fit of spasms and she tried to claw her way out of the plastic and metal prison.

She blinked slowly before fully opening her eyes. Another droplet of water splashed down onto her cheek. It ran down her face, almost like a teardrop, and onto the plastic bag beneath her. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she raised her gaze toward the sky. It was dark, thick clouds spread over the once blue sky. Large drops of rain poured down on her, soaking her completely and pinging off the inside of the open dumpster. She moaned softly, feeling cool puddles forming in pockets of black plastic all around her body. Powerless to free herself, powerless to move, she could only sit and watch as the sky opened up, pouring down its gift from the heavens.

She opened her mouth, feeling a few droplets trickle down her throat, momentarily relieving the persistent dryness that had built up there. She didn't know how long she had been asleep or unconscious. Her stomach told her that a while had passed. The blood was running of her shirt. The blood that had seeped from her stomach had finally slowed to a trickle before stopping completely. It was a good sign as much as it was a bad one. The deep red that had seeped from her body had stolen her energy with it. She was now weak. She was too weak to even shout if someone came by. Her eyelids barely stayed open. Death was something she was willing to face, but the feeling of loneliness that had settled over her was almost too much to bear.

Delirium was beginning to set in. She could see people surrounding her. They weren't real, the sober part of her brain was telling her this. The ghosts of death had finally come to claim her. She wouldn't let them, refusing to give up the fight even as her body was loosing. And suddenly, a figure appeared before her, its features startlingly clear in comparison with the ghastly forms that surrounded it. He reached one hand out, as if trying to help her up.

"Stop tormenting me," she murmured to the air. "You can't be here." She closed her eyes for a moment and he disappeared. "Please… someone help…" she whispered, letting her words be carried by the breeze.

Sleep was beginning to cloud her brain. It wasn't a need to sleep, but a desperate yearning to slip away from the world. Promising to shut her eyes for only a moment, she rested her head against the bag behind her in the most comfortable position and began to drift away.

The sun had set by the time Eriol found her. A ceiling of thick, dark clouds obscured its motions. He had skidded to a stop just beyond the alleyway. His breath came in little huffs, trying to keep pace with the quick working of his legs. The hood of his coat had flown off, exposing his head to the fury of the rain. It drenched him fully, dripping down locks of blue-black hair to saturate his clothes as well. He had originally bypassed the alleyway. Only after feeling the intensity of the aura from this area did he pause to take a look inside the darkness. The alley was strewn with trash; broken glass littered the ground. He surveyed the objects and poked through a few of the piles of old clothes and heaps of trash. A cat leapt from one of the piles, but nothing else happened.

It was then that he heard a low noise. An almost silent moan, echoing off the walls of the alley. He listened for it again, trying to pinpoint the location from which the sound was coming. He couldn't find it. He looked around him again, eyes finally settling on the series of dumpsters against the wall. He scrambled over the first one. Dragging a crate behind him, he used it to peer over the rim of green box. No one was inside, so he dragged his crate to the next one, peering into the darkness of the dumpster.

She was nestled, a shivering mess, in the far corner. One arm was draped across her body, the other extended at a stiff angle. Her legs were buried under the weight of two of the garbage bags. He almost jumped in to help her, but fumbled for the cell phone that Daidouji had given him. He flipped the purple top open and hastily dialed her number. She responded immediately.

"Did you find her?" she cried out into the receiver. She had the phone clutched in her hands, her ear jammed into the earpiece.

He wracked his brain for a way to say it until her nearly panicked voice interrupted him.

"Are we too late? Is she okay? Is she even there? CAN I TALK TO HER?" Her words emerged as a jumble that he was barely able to decipher.

"She's alive," a sigh of relief, "but I don't know for how much longer. She's in a dumpster and looks pretty beat up. I need the emergency information for this area so I can call for help."

"Where are you?" she rushed. "I can call, you just try and keep her stable."

Eriol looked around, trying to find a distinguishing feature. "Uh, I'm not quite sure where exactly I am, I just followed to where her aura lead me." Tomoyo rattled off a number, even before he had finished talking. "Can you repeat that?" She did, and he shielded his arm so he could scribble the number on his palm. He hung up on her and dialed, hoping they would arrive in time to save Sakura.

Post Fiction -

This is a short chapter, really only serving as one of my little bridge chapters to the actually Arc Two of Fallen Neo. I wrote this quickly without a real beta check on it, so please forgive my errors. But, I do hope you can enjoy this small step to the bigger jump of the next Arc. By the way, Arc one is tentatively titled "Taken," while arc two begins with "Recovery"

See you next update: Ciuline Ihmenjo