Author's note: Well, I'd like to thank Sweetcard, Sun_Moon_Star, Lonely Tenshi, and Bil. For being my first reviewers. Thanks guys! J To Sweetcard, I expect the graphic content to pick up in later chapters, but if nothing else the rating is precautionary.
Upon further reflection, I believe this story is a glorified one shot. Translation: It would be a one shot if I didn't drag it out so long. ^^; Read, enjoy, review.
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Chapter 2- The Way We Were
The meditative woman let herself into an apartment that could not boast of its insubstantiality. A large, well decorated living room awaited her. Paying it no heed, she padded straight through toward the bedroom. But her attention was arrested as she passed a small coffee table. A picture stared up at her, begging notice. Not wishing to deny it anything, she lifted it to waist level. A pair of brown eyes beamed out of a handsome face in her general direction. Behind the tall, chestnut-haired man stood a green angular space racer. She stared lovingly at the lost moment in time until a tear threatened to spill, so rubbing her temple she threw the picture lightly on the couch.
Save it for later, she told herself as she drug her exhausted body to bed. Taking time only to shed her coat and shoes, she collapsed across it and almost immediately fell into the nightmarish coma that constituted her only repose.
She could hear the roar of an excited crowd. A bright, sunny day in a place and time long forgotten greeted her dulled senses and left her blinded for a moment. When the glare cleared, it was obvious that several racing ships approaching from the vivid blue sky to her left were the cause of the commotion. All around her stood screaming fans, each cheering their respective pilots in hopes that the sheer volume would push its object forward at a greater speed. Looking down the slope of seats, she could see herself standing, staring out at the collection of racers on the horizon. The other Sakura held a handkerchief in a tense death grip in front of her mouth.
The ships sped forward and down, angling toward a surprisingly narrow finish line comprised of two towering poles. They pulled in tight as they approached the line, every pilot dreaming of crossing it first and willing to risk collision to ensure such a victory. Two ships, one red, the other yellow, were in the lead vying for the win. As the line drew closer, the pilot of the yellow realized too late his error in estimation and tugged sharply at the controls in an effort to avoid crashing into the right line marker. As a result, his wing clipped that of the red, tipping both dangerously off balance. Both ships began a smoking tail spin that would have been, for the audience, a beautifully choreographed dance, had it not been for the knowledge of those two pilots' fate. As the two ships spiraled toward the ground, masking the field with smoke, a third rose seemingly form nowhere to accelerate uncaringly over the damned men and jut through the finish line ahead of them.
Sakura watched herself gasp in shock, as the red and yellow racers erupted into flame upon touching the ground, but then turn to relax and smile easily at the green ship callously taking its victory lap. The older version of herself had to smile grimly. It was nothing, just the risks they took. Everyone one of them knew it. She waited for the other ships to cross the line and jumped the rail easily, running across the field, handkerchief fluttering in the wind, to where the green ship sat.
"Syaoran!" she could hear herself call. Space seemed to flip, and now Sakura was standing behind herself as Syaoran jumped down from his perch on the edge of the slim ship, Cherry Blossom emblazoned on its side. He made his way through the crowd that had gathered. "Sakura! There you are!" he emphasized with joy spreading on his face. He ran to wrap his arms around her and twirl her in the air. Both were laughing lightheartedly by the time he set her down. He stared into her eyes for a moment with an indefinable emotion, but suddenly seemed to remember himself.
"Hey! I have to tell you! I was just talking to Akira. Guess what!" he rushed out in a flurry of excitement, pulling her by the hand back to his ship and the crowd. She laughed happily at his childlike enthusiasm.
"I don't know, Syaoran-kun, what?" He had long outgrown the title, but she couldn't bring herself to give up such a hard won privilege.
"I'm doing so well in this division they want to move me up! Isn't that great? No more of this small stuff, racing around one system belt. I'm going to the pros! Akira says I outclass everyone here by a 'mile.' No offense, Hiirigazawa," he added turning to clap his best friend on the shoulder. The black-haired man nodded good humouredly and grinned. "So what do you think?" he turned smilingly back to Sakura who looked, for all the world, twice as sad as Syaoran was happy. A look of concern crossed his features and he took her shoulder to pull her back from the crowd once more. "What's wrong, honey? We can get married now. They pay the pros just to show up. We can live well." She smiled sadly up at him.
"But Syaoran, you know I can't go with you."
"What do you mean? Of course you can."
"No, Syaoran. I have to stay. You've known that all along," she reminded him on the verge of tears, "good luck," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the cheek and turning to walk away.
Her older self stole one last look at the brown eyed man's stricken face and then faded into oblivion.
Her eyes opened as though she had never lost consciousness. She had turned on her back at some point and found herself staring at the darkened ceiling. The headlights of a passing car seeped in through the window blinds and played their way across the upper half of the room. When they were gone, the room returned to the deep gray void it had been moments before, showing no signs of ever having been disturbed by light. If the darkness thought the interruption would distract her long enough for it to extract itself from her vice-like gaze, it was disappointed.
She sighed in resignation. She would never have done with remembering. Every time she closed her eyes it was a different tortured memory, but the supply seemed never ending.
She took the moment of wakefulness as an opportunity to hide from the cold and slid quickly under the covers. Soon, she was tumbling back into the tormented dream world that, if nothing else, was at least familiar.
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I know it was short, but it's probably only going to be about four chapters. It's either make mini chapters or one long one. Well, until next time, minna!
-Caol