---

Chapter 2:  Some Days, It's Better To Just Stay In Bed.

~*~

I'd passed out before.  It was a couple years earlier, during a Music Theory class in high school. My sophomore year, if I remember right.  Anyway, Kats and I were sitting next to each other in the band room, tuning our guitars for some class activity, and I remember that I was focusing really heavily on that steady hum of the E major note, concentrating hard and barely breathing because I was trying to listen over the background noise--  And, then, suddenly the world got quiet and staticky, and it seemed almost like a yellow-tinted visor came down over my eyes, because everything was suddenly dim and golden and hushed.  I was confused, at first, since I'd never passed out before, and thought that maybe I could make the feeling go away if I tried.  So I just sat there in the chair and breathed deeply and tried to bring myself back, but after a few seconds it was pretty obvious that it wasn't working.  I remember, very vaguely, turning to Kats then and mumbling, "I think I'm gonna pass out."  Kats said something, then, probably about how much I was freaking her out, but her words faded out like some movie effect gone wrong, and next thing I knew, I was on the other side of the band room and everyone was crowded around me.

But, it was weird, because I had no memory of passing out--when I woke up, I wasn't even sure that I had passed out, except that  there was that lost time that I had no memory of.  I'd been over there, sitting in my chair next to Kats, I'd blinked, and next thing I knew I was on the other side of the room and everyone was around me.  So, naturally, I was expecting something similar to happen in this instance, to have that long moment of missing time in place of the time I spent unsconscious. 

But, strangely enough, it wasn't like that.  There was substance to my unconsciousness; I was...aware.

Everything was dark; cool.  I had the impression of being alone, too--and, not just everyone-else-is-asleep alone or family's-out-for-a-few-hours alone.  No.  This was utterly, totally, scarily alone.  Last-person-on-the-planet-alive alone.  Or--I shivered--dead-and-trapped-in-some-weird-kind-of-purgatory alone.  I cried out then, I think, but my voice didn't make a sound in the darkness.  It didn't even echo hollowly back at me, it was just...silent.  And, it wasn't -loud- silence, either, which was really strange.  It was dead, perfect silence, like I'd imagine the inside of a black hole would be.  Stagnant.  Frozen.  Empty.  Dead.

And, then, suddenly, I was aware that I was somewhere else; someone else.  There was wind, icy on my face, and something like heat on my chest; a flash of white and then a burst of agony that shrieked inside of me like a white-hot flame--

"...happened?"

"...don't know sh...nd I think...esh air or..."

"...ramedics...might be...ing to do."

And, then, very clearly:  "No, it's all right.  She seems to be coming around."

And, as it happened, I was.  Feeling too-warm and still a little shaky, I drew in a long breath, prepared myself mentally as best I could, and let my eyelashes flutter open.

--and, found myself staring up into eyes of warm, gold-tinted amber. 

"Large iced mocha," I managed weakly.  "No whipped cream."

The eyes widened briefly in surprise, and the lips beneath them parted as if to say something--but, then, abruptly, a small, rosy-cheeked face pushed its way into my field of vision.

"Are you all right?" the owner of the rosy cheeks asked a bit frantically.  "Are you having a medical emergency??"

Eager, wide, intelligent eyes, a voice that was high enough to be a girl's, but which I knew rather instinctively to be a boy's.  He was dressed in neatly-ironed khakis and a slightly-too-large-for-him red polo shirt, and although his hair was cropped into a boyish kind of bowl-cut around his face, just looking at the kid, I could see that he probably got mistaken for a girl a LOT.  He had that cherubish kind of look about him, almost like a male version of Shirley Temple, although--if his speech was any indication, at least--I suspected that he was less than your typical innocent, untouched babe. 

"Are you having difficulty breathing or anything?" he went on anxiously.  "I've never had any kind of medical training, of course, but I've read a lot of books and journals on modern medicine and doctor-patient care, and I'm certain I could--"

The other guy gave the kid a patient but slightly-reprimanding look.  "Andrew, please.  Give her some air."

The kid sobered quickly, nodded.  "Right.  Sorry."

And, there were those eyes again, regarding me with a concerned kind of relief--but, luckily, I was feeling a bit more coherent by now.  "How do you feel?" he asked gently.  "Does your head hurt at all?"

"My head?" I echoed.  I brought a hand to the back of my skull, held it there with a little frown spreading across my lips.  "I...I don't think so.  Why, did I hit it?"

Andrew sprang forward, then, his eyes so wide I was surprised he hadn't managed a spot on Ripley's, yet.  "No!" he exclaimed.  "Stefan jumped over the counter and caught you before you fell!  It was amazing!"

Stefan...Stefan...Stefan--oh

I blushed, horribly embarrassed for some reason I couldn't quite grasp.  He...he...

Noticing my expression, the kid nodded vehemently.  "It was amazing," he repeated.  "Like something right out of an adventure novel!"

I frowned.  Adventure novel?  What kind of weird breed of kid was this?

"Regardless," said Stefan, casting the boy an amused sort of smile, "how are you feeling?"

I thought about it for a few seconds.  "Well," I said slowly, "I'm still a little shaky, but...I don't know, I feel all right."

"She needs to get some fluids in her system!" Andrew announced.  "And, food.  Of course, high temperatures can also cause loss of consciousness, but I don't think that could be the problem, so it must be malnourishment or dehydration or something."

I frowned again.  "I'm not dehydrated."

Stefan turned a speculative eye to me.  "Have you eaten?  Andrew's right, that could be part of the problem."

"Well...no...but--"

Andrew leaped to his feet.  "That's it, then!  You need food!"

"--but, I never eat breakfast," I finished a little lamely.  "A-Anyway, I need to get to class..."  I tried to crawl to my feet, but ended up falling rather unceremoniously sideways only a moment later.  I thudded into something soft, looked up to see that Stefan had somehow, in the space of half a second, leaped to his feet, gotten behind me, and caught me before I could fall. 

"See," Andrew said, jabbing a finger at me.  "I told you."

I blinked up at Stefan, who now seemed to be contented with simply holding onto my arm, rather than...err...  I blushed.  "How do you do that?"

He glanced at me in something like surprise, but before he could answer, Andrew chimed in with, "He used to be a gymnast.  He even had a shot at the Olympics, but then something happened to his foot and he couldn't compete!"

Stefan sighed lightly.  "Andrew, please.  I doubt that--"  He looked at me rather suddenly, and I guessed he'd just figured out that I hadn't told him my name.

"Riley," I supplied. 

He gave me a little nod, then turned his attention back to Andrew.  "I doubt that Riley is interested in hearing the details of my life."  Measured pause.  "All right?"

The kid gave a sullen little nod and was silent.

Amber eyes flickered to me again.  "Riley," Stefan said softly, and I was suddenly VERY aware of the fact that we were in the middle of a coffee shop, and there were customers who were still sitting calmly at their tables, probably staring at me and hearing every damn word that was being said...  Agh.  "You should probably sit down until you've had a chance to recover.  Here."  He ushered me to a nearby table, somehow managed to gently force me into the chair there.  "I'll bring you something to drink."

"Nothing caffeinated or salty," Andrew warned from behind us.  "Water or milk, maybe."

"Would you like something to eat, too?"

Gaaah, I wanted to get out of heeeeeeere...

"No, no, it's okay," I said.  This time, careful to steady myself on the chair, I rose to my feet and stayed there.  Stefan was eyeing me a little warily, but he didn't make any mad rushes to grab me, or anything.  "I really need to get going."

"You can't drive like that!" Andrew exclaimed.  "W-What if you black out again?"

"I won't," I insisted.  "I--this has happened before.  The feeling always fades after a couple minutes, and then I'm fine."

Stefan was giving me The Doubtful Eye, but I wasn't in the mood to examine the moral consequences of lying to complete strangers.  And, anyway, I wasn't actually lying.  It had happened before, and the feeling had faded after a few minutes, and I was fine, then.  So, no fuss, no muss, no lies.  I started to make my way towards the door.

--and stopped when something strange and familiar whispered into my ears.

I stood with my back to Andrew and Stefan, just past the metal-post-rope things and almost to the door.  I glanced back at them over my shoulder, found them standing next to each other at the table I'd just vacated, both looking at me with concerned expressions on their faces.  Well, Andrew's was kind of a mixture between curiosity and concern, but there was still concern there.

"W...What did you say?" I managed.

Stefan frowned.  "Say?"

"When?" chimed Andrew.

I felt a frown of my own trickle onto my lips, twist them downwards.  "Just...just now.  You said--"  My eyes flickered to the ground, and I realized suddenly that I didn't know what I'd heard.  Why...why did it feel so important, then?  I sighed softly.  After-effects of passing out?  Or, maybe some leftover of that weird dream?  "I'm sorry," I mumbled, turning away.  "Thanks, for...for helping me.  Bye..."

I ran for the door, not caring if people were staring at me, not caring if I was acting like an idiot--it was like I couldn't breathe, like the air in that place was smothering me.  And, as I stepped out into the crisp January sunlight a few seconds later, I realized that my hands were shaking, my pulse was racing, and my breathing was coming fast and quick.  I stumbled forward, grabbed onto a pole to steady myself.  For a long time, I couldn't do much more than just stand there, breathing hard and keeping my eyes tightly closed, and fight against whatever it was that was washing over me.  I didn't feel sick or like I was going to pass out again, which was weird, but--well, my heart was thundering in my chest, and it was like I couldn't get a good, deep breath...

What is this?  A panic attack or something?

And, then, just as quickly as it had come, it went away.  I could breathe again, and that...that weird pain...it was gone, too.  I drew in a long, calming breath of air, opened my eyes, and disentangled myself from  the pole.  Luckily--I glanced around--it seemed like no one had seen my strange little display, so I walked as casually as I could to the Beretta and climbed inside.  It was only there that everything hit me, only there that I felt the pained tears stinging against my cheeks and the great numbing fear sinking into my skin like icy water.  I sat there in the driver's seat, shaking and holding back tears, for almost a full ten minutes before I felt strong enough to jam the key in the ignition, start up the car, and get the hell out of there. 

As I pulled away, I could've sworn that I caught a glimpse of amber eyes through the rearview mirror, peering out through the coffee shop window.  But, then, it all faded out behind me, and I was back on the road again.

---

Mom was, ah, less than pleased to see me back so early.

"Young lady, what are you doing back?  Are you...are you skipping class??  Even when you know how important it is for you to keep your grade point average up?  Even when you know how much your education is costing us??"

And, I was completely and utterly not in the mood for this discussion.  "Can we talk about this later?" I managed a bit weakly, brushing past her and moving for the stairs.  "I...I'm not feeling well."

"Well, you shouldn't be feeling well.  Honestly, Riley, I'm just so...so sick and tired of watching you waste your life.  You are so intelligent, but what do you do with it?  Do you use it to ace all your classes and come out with a 4.0? No.  No.  You sit there half the day in front of that computer and write...write stories about characters that aren't even yours--"

Agggh, why did she have to drag the fanfiction into it??

"Mom," I said.  I was halfway up the stairs--almost there--but, I had a feeling she'd be satisfied with yelling through my closed door if we didn't get this done with right now.  "I'm not wasting my life.  I'm just--"

"Yes, you are.  Listen to me, Riley.  You can't understand these things, because you just don't have enough experience in the world, yet, but these college years are very important.  If you don't do well here, you'll never do well.  Do you understand?  You'll never do well.  Everything in your life depends on what you do now, and I can't stand to see you throwing all that potential away like this!  I...I just expected more out of you, Riley."

I don't need this right now, damn it.

But, there it was, laid flat on the table and as glaringly obvious as anything could be. 

Disappointed in me.  Not proud of me.  Wasting my life...

"Mom, let's talk about this later, okay?"  I didn't give her a chance to respond.  I leaped the rest of the way up the stairs, spun the corner, and hurried into my room.  The door slammed behind me, and then I was curled up on my bed under the covers and everything was all right again.

Only...somehow, it wasn't.  It had only been, what, a half an hour since I'd left for class, and yet somehow, in the space of those thirty minutes, everything had changed.  Sighing, I tugged the glasses off my face and clunked them onto the bedside table.  Everything about today felt so...so weird and unreal.  All the bad things that'd happened this morning, passing out in the coffee shop, that utterly bizarre dream, Stefan and Andrew...gah.  I snuggled deep under the covers and tugged the blankets over my head, pressed them down so I was surrounded by the dim glow of muted sunlight and the warmth of my own breath. 

I fell asleep there, wrapped in warm darkness, and did not dream.

---

I came awake with a gasp.

Something...something was wrong.

Ow-ow-ow-ow what the hell?!  I flung the covers off my head, sat up straight in bed, and realized with another numbing wash of fear that I couldn't breathe.  No...no, I COULD, but every breath was pain, unimaginable, unceasing, agonizing pain, coming from right there, right there!  I stumbled out of bed, fell promptly to my knees and had to crawl to get anywhere.  Mother of God, what was wrong with me??  I gave an anguished little cry and fell onto my stomach on the floor, my right hand clutching my chest, and wondered a bit frantically if I might somehow be having a heart attack or something.  I mean, it wasn't impossible, was it?  I'd heard of people my age having them, and it did run in my family--

I...I had to get help.  Help, help, help--ow-ow-ow!  The tears were hot in my eyes, blurring my vision, but I could still make out the square red numbers on my alarm clock, swimming in my vision but somehow so clear, so clear; and I knew then that I was going to die, I was going to die, because it was after twelve and Mom always left at eleven thirty so she wasn't even home and no one else was either and all the neighbors worked and I couldn't have made it outside anyway and what the hell was I going to do?!  I was...I was dying here and no one was even going to know about it until three o'clock when Ted got home from school and even then probably he wouldn't think to look into my room, and so by the time someone found me it'd be too fucking late! 

Somehow, biting my lip so hard that I tasted blood, I managed to drag myself to the door, stretch up my free hand, and grab onto the doorknob.  I had to get out I had to get out...  Oh, but God--God, God, God, it hurt so much, it--  I...I couldn't do this.  I couldn't do this!  I wasn't strong enough...  And, what the hell did it matter, anyway?  What the hell did it matter?  Mom hated me, the only friend I had in the world who even gave a damn about me was Kats, and Mom was right, all I ever did was writing goddamn fanfictions and watch Fushigi Yuugi!  What the hell did it matter if I died!?

No.

A voice, deep inside of me, foreign and strange and unfamiliar, but mine.  Definitely, certainly, positively mine.  My voice, my command--my strength.  Mine.

No.

I stood up.  The pain didn't lessen.  It seared through me, burned in my chest, made breathing so difficult that I was starting to feel light-headed from lack of oxygen.  But, no.  No.  A slow warmth was spreading over me now, numbing and wonderful, and even though I knew that the pain was still there and I was still going to die, it was okay.  It was okay, because the warmth was a gentle hand on my cheek, soothing away the fever and giving me strength, giving me the power to get up, go on, fight past the pain, get that door open so they could--  So I could live.  Because...I was fighting for my life here, wasn't I?  Yeah...yeah, my life.  I had to get out, get help.  Yeah.  My life.

The warmth gave me the strength to lift my hand again, grab the doorknob and twist it open.  Then, six hard, jolting steps later, I was in the bathroom, leaning hard against the counter trying to catch my breath, and even though I hadn't thought to hit the switch it was light, it was light--why?  Why?  The shade was drawn and even though there was a little bit of light trickling in from downstairs, it wasn't the right kind of light, it wasn't this weird reddish glow that was suddenly all around me like an aura of...

I suddenly stood very straight and still in front of the mirror, no longer leaning on the counter, no longer thinking or moving or blinking or breathing.  I just stood and...looked.  Because, good blessed holy bloody God, it was there.  It was there.  

"Yanagi," I whispered.

Impossibly, I felt the pain in my chest fading, but it wasn't something I noticed right away, strange as that may sound.  Then again, it was kind of hard to notice much of anything with the reflected image of the willow right there in front of me, burning on the chest of my mirror image and--I glanced downward--burning on my chest.  MY chest. 

Something inside of me gave a great cry of what felt strangely like jubilation, and then fell silent.  And, the truth was there, pulsing in my veins and lying ashen on my tongue.  God, I'm...

I'm...-him- somehow...aren't I?

---

AN:  This is all that's written for now, but as this is a fic that's very close to me personally, I'm rather certain I'll be writing a great deal more of it in the coming days/weeks/whatever.  Anyway, until then, do let me know your comments, criticisms, and opinions—particularly if you find yourself despising it and cursing the name of Ryuen for daring to toy with something like this. --;;  Anyway.  Lemme know.  I shall be forever indebted. 

PS:  Man Beneath the Braid is next on my to-do list, ne, Mouse-chan? ^_~.