By Duzzie

Word Count: 820-ish

Relief

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a/n: in case of confusion

//Shaoran//=original

/./Syaoran/./=clone

I'm probably not as satisfied with this chapter (which might just be the very, very last in this, we'll see) so I'll probably fix it up later. I'm posting it now, but expect change

dedication: Little Patch of Heaven;Azalee

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//.//The mirror melts
Somewhere else
Inside eternity
Where you, on outstretched wings,
Sing within
The garden of everything.
So here we are lovers of lost dimensions
Burning supernovas, of all sound and sight
Every touch, a temptation
And for every sense, a sensation

…

Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Why do I feel so alone
For some reason I think of home//.//

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At first it hurt, the pain of remembrance. His conscious came back to him in pieces. He started by leaving a survivor in one world and a family in the next. He remembered things like laughter and the heat of embarrassment flush on his cheeks. He remembered an archaeologist and a king, a priest and a country. He regained the feeling of fondness, but more importantly the feeling of regret when he remembered a magician and a warrior that kindly supported him when he was a burden. He remembered a princess. He remembered love.

It started as a small breeze and grew into a voice. Like a butterfly in his empty chest, the voice scratched its way out of a cocoon, bleeding and raw and real (and he knew it was real, knew it was his own). It turned into a scream and echoed throughout the chasms of his mind. He could feel it quake, as if every nerve in his body were on fire and screaming and once it started it didn't stop. His chest hurt when he breathed and his voice, though he never spoke, bled as if from overuse. It screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed until one day, he saw Shaoran again, and the voice changed. The screaming grew quiet and calmed. It'd felt as if the voice was crying.

Shaoran, the boy he'd never been and never knew he hadn't been, a person so close to his heart that if he'd had the time, he would have wondered how close they could have been as friends (he would have wondered in what world they were brothers and in what world one of them didn't exist and in what world they walked to school together andinwhatworldthey'rehappy).

He sees Shaoran again (fighting next to them), determined and sad and doing all of the things that Syaoran himself ever wanted to do. Had he had the time, he would have felt lonely, but he didn't and he came up with a plan that'd been hatching before he even remembered what disobedience meant and after that…after that. After that, he died.

He died because there wasn't room for him and because Shaoran was more important than he was and because Fai needed his magic back and because Kurogane needed the fuel to fight and because he'd already worried Mokona enough and because there was no Sakura for him anymore.

It had almost been a bittersweet relief, more bitter than sweet, but being able to feel the blood flow out of him (proof he'd lived) and the pain of his wound and the stinging of tears in his eyes was something he never knew he'd missed until then.

Being held in his mirror's arms was something like being whole again and even as the voice inside him grew more quiet as each heartbeat became weaker and weaker, he thought he heard it sigh between the crying. And it was sad, because he didn't want to die and he hadn't wanted any of this and all that he'd ever wanted was to come home to his father's small and sandy home in his small and sandy country to be greeted by the only girl he'd ever love and he'd wanted a good ending and he'd wanted to show his gratitude to Kurogane-san and Fai-san and he'd wanted, he'd wanted, he'd wanted…he'd wanted everyone to be happy.

"I'm…sorry," sosorrysosososorrygodiwant

"Forgive…..Me….Thank….Yo…"

and before he'd gone on ahead he remembered the softest smile he'd ever received and let himself be enveloped in its warmth.

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Somewhere else, a figure woke up with a heavy gasp.

"Syaoran? Sorry, I didn't want to wake you, but our stop is next," said the girl next to him. He looked around him, still half disoriented and half panicked from the dream (but no, it was…it wasn't a dream it was a). He was in the subway--where he was supposed to be (?)--with Sakura and they were going to school, like they always did. He shook his head to clear away the fog.

"We're going to miss our stop if we don't get off now, Syaoran…." She felt his forehead, concerned about his unordinary unresponsiveness. He looked at her almost as if seeing her for the first time and felt so happy he wasn't sure where it was coming from. When they got off the train, he grabbed hold of her and held her in his arms. She blushed and stammered, pushing out of his hug. She took his hand shyly.

"Is everything okay, Syaoran?" she asked.

"Yeah, I had a dream but…I don't remember what it was about now." When she continued to stare worriedly at him, he smiled and squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's nothing. I'm great."

"I'm great." He whispered and the wind carried it and carried it and carried it and carri………………

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