Well, hello! And Welcome to My Little World of Weirdness!
I state for the record that, despite the fact I really, really wish I did, I don't own any of the official characters that will grace this story; it's all CLAMP's! Always has been, always will be! I *DO*, however, own Marcibay Hilligans and Hei-ying Reed!! I also own Mystrasa Kyree, and the dragon isn't mine, it's on loan from my good friend, the Blue Goo! And what the heck . . . I own the mansion as well! [Laughs] Also I don't pretend to have any Mastery over the language of Japanese or any clue as to correct grammatical structure. I put it in and hope it gets across the point I'm trying to make! And I don't pretend to be able to write any sort of accents so please don't hate me!!
"Speaking"
*Stress/emphasis*
//Thinking//
In This Tainted Soul. . .
By Dr Megalomania.
Part five: Trust and Fear
Clow felt nervous as he stepped up the curling stairs to the third floor. As always he was going to create the cards in his study, every single card had been born there and these last four wouldn't be any different. He paused, his pale white hand clamped on the railing. //What if I can't do it? What if it goes wrong? What if I can't do it? //
"Laddie!" Hilligans called his reprimand both aloud and in Clow's mind. Clow's head snapped up, and he looked down at the entrance hall's ground, Hilligans stood in the centre of the shiny wood flooring. Clow's magic circle had recently been added to the floor, and Hilligans stood in the centre of the gold leafed groves. Clow doubted Hilligans had chosen the position on purpose.
He blinked, he was suddenly aware that he was trembling. He swallowed then called down at the gruff coachman, "What if I can't do it, Mister Hilligans?"
Hilligans stepped forward one step, "Who will, then, Laddie? Eh? Who will complete thy cards?" Clow broke first and looked away from the stern gaze. "ANSWER me, Laddie! Who will complete thy cards for thee?
Clow swallowed again, "If I can't . . ."
"If thy can't, then find thee another profession!" Hilligans spat. "Because Laddie, I warn thee!" He shook a gloved finger at him, "If thy don't 'ave the courage to complete the cards, then thy cards, thy life, thy magic . . . thy *SOUL* will desert thee!" Clow forced himself to look at the man below him, as he continued his reproach. "Who will complete the cards THEN? Thy art Clow Reed, there is *NO* other in this life that can declare they 'ave same magic as thee." The old man was silent for a moment as he allowed his point to sink in; "Laddie, I ask thee . . ." he said quietly, either in his mind or aloud, Clow couldn't tell, "Who will complete the cards? If the answer ain't thyself . . . oh, Laddie, go jump off roof now." Clow's trembling stopped, at the suggestion; he swallowed again, as Hilligans walked away from him. "Because the *hell* you'll give thyself for the rest of eternity would be *infinitely* worse . . ."
The old oak door slammed shut with a resounding echo, as Hilligans left Clow standing on the curling stairs. His hand was still clutching the railing for support. He breathed deeply, not knowing quite what was causing him feel so troubled. He glanced up at the top of the stairs, a turning right, past six doors, and on your left, his study lay. His study, which would be the birthplace of four of the most powerful cards. He glanced down at the engraved, golden circle where Hilligans had stood.
There, Hilligans had suggested that Clow would find death a better alternative to not finishing the cards because he was too scared. Clow turned and put both hands on the dark railing. He realised he was precisely halfway between the third floor and the first. He could retreat down the stairs, admit that he couldn't, *wouldn't* finish the cards for fear of failure . . . Clow turned his head upward. "Or I can step up to the challenge . . ." he frowned worriedly as he considered his options. "To ascend or descend . . . to live my life in the knowledge that I never failed because I never tried . . . or to try . . . and fail, or succeed but still know that I tried . . ."
He turned away from the third floor; his foot hovered over the step below. He hesitated and pulled it back as if it was burning. He turned, and lifted his foot to step up but the sudden thought, //What if I can't do this?// made him stamp his foot back on to the stair he was trapped on. He closed his eyes, hoping that a vision would come, come and make his decision *for* him. Show him the blue haired boy standing, beaming triumphantly, at the top, or maybe the young girl, with the pink hat and the cloak, smiling confidently as she held the four cards in her pale yellow gloves. His shoulders drooped as he realised the future was not going to help him with this decision.
His eyes were still shut as he murmured to himself, "What are you going to do now, Reed?" He knew Hilligans was right, Clow was the only one that could complete the cards . . . but it seemed such a huge task, beyond him almost. He squeezed his eyes shut, and willed himself not to cry like some panicked child, facing his first teacher for his grade. It was then he felt the budge, a small push against his back. His eyes snapped open; there was a small sharp push against his back again. It was trying to force him up the stairs. He looked up; his cards were orbiting him again. He looked around to see which one was pushing him. The Move card floated into view, and pushed itself against his shoulder. The card was a weak one, and was only capable of moving small inanimate objects, but it was trying it's hardest to force Clow Reed, one of the most powerful Magicians in the world, up the stairs.
He smiled at it, and murmured, "You think I can do it . . ." The card moved back to the gap that the other cards left for it, he turned in a circle to look at each of them, " . . .You all do . . . don't you?"
The Move card was the first to show it's response, it began to glow, and the golden glow spread to the other cards, they hovered closer to him, and he could feel their magical warmth. He closed his eyes and absorbed their tender, trusting love, Clow could feel himself blushing.
"See Laddie?" Hilligans stood just three steps down from Clow, his harsh voice from before was gone, replaced by a knowing, soft tone. "They trust thee . . . an' I trust thee . . ." he walked up and past Clow, and paused five steps ahead of the young magician. He sniffled and looked down at him dispassionately, "Now come along an' stop this airy-fairy, carin' business . . ." he turned away, starting to walk again, "Thy 'ave work t' do Laddie, an' ain't no one else gonna do it for thee."
Clow paused, and looked up. Hilligans was at the top of the stairs, arms folded and a gruff but expectant look on his face. Before his mind had time to think of the self doubting thought again, he felt the move card ramming itself into his back, "Okay," he smiled as the cards glowed, "Okay, okay . . ." he began to laugh as the cards pushed themselves against his back and under his arms, determined to get him up to the top.
"Okay!" He laughed happily, "Okay, okay, *okay*! I'm going!" He said as he stepped up the stairs towards his study. "Arghaaa!" He sniggered as the cards forced him into a run. "I said I was going!"
Once he was at the top, the cards stopped their pushing. He paused again and turned back to them, "Thank you . . ." he bowed slightly, as the other cards piled themselves orderly on a near-by table, effectively saying that they would wait there until he was done, the Move card floated closer. Clow smiled, and pressed two fingers against the surface of the card. His first card bobbed slightly, drifting like it would in it's true form. As he dropped his fingers, the card floated closer and pushed itself against his shoulder, nudging him to go. He nodded to it, turn and precede to follow Hilligans to his study, aware that the card remained floating in the corridor, for a few seconds longer before shuffling itself into it's place in the pack.
Clow walked along the corridor, he smiled at Hilligans who stood in the open door way of his study . . . or at least that's what he had thought.
Clow stopped, as Hilligans faded and was replaced, the corridor faded and was replaced . . . replaced by . . .
"A vision?" Clow wondered, "Why now?" this vision wasn't like the others, it wasn't a fragment of any that he'd seen before . . .a snowflake, a single, white pure snowflake floated in front of him, he was just about to touch it when a sob from behind him made him turn quickly, the cheerful lion stood under a window, at the end of a corridor, one Clow knew was on the floor above. But the lion was growling at him, something, some*one* was clinging to his neck, sobbing. The light was coming from the wrong direction for Clow to see if it was a white haired or a black haired child. Clow suddenly wondered why he was so certain it was either of those . . .another snowflake floated and danced impossibly in front of him, it blew over his shoulder. Clow turned, where Hilligans had been standing, a thin dark figure now stood, and his features so completely hidden in the shadows. First the figure raised one hand, it held clumps of white mane, fine like a horse's, and Clow assumed it was from the lion's fine tail . . . then the figure raise his other hand, some sort of glinting blade grasped firmly in the bone white fingers. Clow's eyes widened in horror as the being tilted his head back and proceeded to slit his own, deathly pale thro- --
"Laddie?! Laddie?! Are you all right?!" Clow sat up with a sob caught in his throat. He pressed his hands against his mouth to bit back the wave of nausea. "Breathe slowly, Laddie!" Hilligans snapped concerned, he rubbed Clow's back in soothing circles. "Slowly," he murmured, "Slowly." The boy was as white as a sheet, as if he'd seen some sort of ghost. Hilligans was aware that Clow saw things, but he said they were like inspiring, reassuring, warm memories . . . this one obviously wasn't anything close to warm, reassuring or inspiring. Clow was shaking worse that he had been on the stairs earlier, and tears were streaking unchecked down his face. It was the first and last time that Marcibay Hilligans would see Clow cry . . . but it wasn't the last time Clow Reed would ever cry.
Hilligans had guided Clow to the kitchen, and sat him down. He wrapped a warm blanket around the boy's shoulders. He kept looking at the door, as if he expected whatever he had seen suddenly jump out on him, he had actually yelped when his cards floated in, full of concern for their boy master who had suddenly collapsed without reason. They were a part of his soul and were in some aware of what he had seen, but there was no way they could have interpreted it. Clow trembled, and shook so violently, Hilligans could actually hear his teeth chattering. Marcibay sighed, what the boy had seen had shaken him, shaken him to the core . . . he shushed the cards away, and sat besides Clow on the old bench. The boy was clenching and unclenching his fists, trying hard to calm down, trying desperately to hold in the tears, but that only made it worst.
Hilligans wrapped an arm around his back, and then one around his front, the boy resisted at first, stuttering something resembling, "I don't need . . ." but when he brought his head up and Hilligans meet his eyes with compassion, Clow broke. He broke down, and sobbed, and screamed, and shook, and shuddered, and did this until he could cry no more, until he fell into a fitful sleep, marred with dreams of cold silver blades and bone white skin, everything splattered with crimson red blood.
Hilligans sat for a full three hours, just rocking the boy gently; he wondered what the boy had seen. He rested his chin on the shiny, long black hair and was just dozing off when the cards suddenly burst out of the pack they had been resting in. They placed themselves on the table and began to shuffle themselves simply, they cut the deck, once, twice, three times, then three cards flipped out in front of him.
"Away with thy shenanigans . . . I've no time for thy games now."
The cards were insistent, and glowed, the three in front of him floated in front of his weather worn face. Hilligans sighed, then muttered a quiet curse, "Aye . . . I'll listen."
Their message was fairly simple to understand. The move was the first card, they wanted to move him. Sleep the next; they wanted him to have a proper sleep. "Thy want me t' move him somewhere where he can sleep, aye . . ."
The last card was the Power, they were offering him the strength to carry their master, "Thy realise that thy master would be mighty angry with thee for offerin' thy services without his consent?"
The card twirled and shuffled again, again three cards floated in front of him. Their simplistic message easy for him to read. The Dream card was the first, they were concerned about his dreams . . . it floated under a card that was revealed to be the Dark card, which glowed and then fell to the table lifeless. They didn't like his bad dreams . . . the Dream card floated under the Sweet card now. "Aye . . . I wish for him to 'ave sweet dreams too."
The cards gathered and the power card spun out again, Hilligans glanced from the card to the snoozing magician on his shoulder, back to the cards again, "I guess I could make an exception t'night . . . so what do I do?"
The next morning, the sunlight streamed in though the window, onto the four- poster bed. Clow frowned in his sleep; he always made sure the curtains were shut last thing at night, why was sunlight pouring into his room?
He groaned and rolled over, allowing his back to be warmed by the midday rays . . . //Midday?!// Clow's sleepy mind wondered, // Mister Hilligans *never* lets me sleep in that late . . .//
It was true that the gruff old coach driver was always up at the crack of dawn and made sure Clow never slept past breakfast's last call. In all truthfulness, that was the real reason both the dash card and the fly card had been created, Clow wasn't an early morning type of person, in his early teens he considered it a crime against humanity to be awake *before* twelve o'clock. But that was probably because his uncle always woke him in his youth as the first few rays of sunlight was slipping over the horizon, cutting into the night's last stand like a sharp gleaming blade—
"NO!" Clow sat up suddenly. He felt the tears welling up again and willed them away.
"So . . . you're awake, Laddie." Hilligans sat forward in his arm chair, "For a while there I thought you were going to sleep all day and miss lunch altogether." the craggy old man pushed himself up and out of the chair, and walked over to Clow's desk. There was a tray with a steaming teapot and a small lunch.
Clow sat up very straight, his pale hands clenched tightly, resting in his lap. The scarlet quilts served only to make the boy seem paler. His dark hair fell loosely around his shoulders, and he was staring very hard at the end of the bed.
"What is it Laddie?" Hilligans poured a cup of tea for the boy, Clow looked resolved, and maybe a slight bit ashamed.
"I'm sorry." Clow said quietly, he looked up at Hilligans who was bringing him a cup of tea.
"Sorry for what?"
Clow was silent for a few seconds, and then he looked at the end of the bed. Hilligans sat on the bed; he had a feeling he knew. He handed the young magician the china cup and saucer. "Tha' I had t' comfort thee. . .?"
Clow's shoulders drooped and he stared mutely into the teacup. He nodded quietly.
"Laddie . . ." Hilligans smiled slightly, "Thy art human, and I 'ave no doubt that whate'er thee saw would take the sturdiest man and make him weep as well. Now, drink thy tea . . . I 'ave work to do, an' so do thee . . . no doubt that thy will be plannin' thy last four cards today."
When Clow still didn't reply, still didn't raise his head from his tea gazing, Hilligans sighed and stood. He walked over to the bedroom door, "There's a small lunch for thee . . . thy Clow cards 'ave been hasslin' me th' 'hole time, so I want thee t' make an appearance for dinner tonight."
Clow nodded quietly. Hilligans shook his head, and closed the door silently; he was half way down the stairs when he heard Clow's voice in his mind.
//Thank you Mister Hilligans . . . expect me down at six o'clock sharp.//
Hilligans chuckled, and muttered both back through his mind, and aloud.
"Cheeky little beggar."
-------------------
And now it's Time for LEAVE IT TO DR MEGALOMANIA!!
Clow: Is it just my imagination or is this fic longer than usual?
DrM: It's not your imagination . . .
Clow: Good . . . [smiles and then grabs DrM by the collar] You said I'd be gettin' it on with someone!
DrM: Now that's your imagination!
Yue: [looks broken] But! But! But! You said!!
DrM: I know I did, I'm just messing with Clow's mind . . . anyway . . . be patient, the person he's getting it on with isn't there yet!
Hilligans: [puts away bondage stuff] Ooooohhh!
DrM: [covers eyes] Ewwww!! @___@;
Clow: now that was . . . I dunno what that was!! All I can say is that the next updating gonna get this ficcy bumped up to nc-17 . . . or 'R' whichever is the rating above 13! Mostly for the swearing . . . it's a couple of chappies after that I get to . . . [DrM covers his mouth]
DrM: Who died and made you author?! ¬_¬
Clow: You did . . . because I kill you now!!
DrM: PLEASE R&R!! [Looks at axe-wheedling Clow and runs away] AHHHHHHH!!! SAVE ME!!
I state for the record that, despite the fact I really, really wish I did, I don't own any of the official characters that will grace this story; it's all CLAMP's! Always has been, always will be! I *DO*, however, own Marcibay Hilligans and Hei-ying Reed!! I also own Mystrasa Kyree, and the dragon isn't mine, it's on loan from my good friend, the Blue Goo! And what the heck . . . I own the mansion as well! [Laughs] Also I don't pretend to have any Mastery over the language of Japanese or any clue as to correct grammatical structure. I put it in and hope it gets across the point I'm trying to make! And I don't pretend to be able to write any sort of accents so please don't hate me!!
"Speaking"
*Stress/emphasis*
//Thinking//
In This Tainted Soul. . .
By Dr Megalomania.
Part five: Trust and Fear
Clow felt nervous as he stepped up the curling stairs to the third floor. As always he was going to create the cards in his study, every single card had been born there and these last four wouldn't be any different. He paused, his pale white hand clamped on the railing. //What if I can't do it? What if it goes wrong? What if I can't do it? //
"Laddie!" Hilligans called his reprimand both aloud and in Clow's mind. Clow's head snapped up, and he looked down at the entrance hall's ground, Hilligans stood in the centre of the shiny wood flooring. Clow's magic circle had recently been added to the floor, and Hilligans stood in the centre of the gold leafed groves. Clow doubted Hilligans had chosen the position on purpose.
He blinked, he was suddenly aware that he was trembling. He swallowed then called down at the gruff coachman, "What if I can't do it, Mister Hilligans?"
Hilligans stepped forward one step, "Who will, then, Laddie? Eh? Who will complete thy cards?" Clow broke first and looked away from the stern gaze. "ANSWER me, Laddie! Who will complete thy cards for thee?
Clow swallowed again, "If I can't . . ."
"If thy can't, then find thee another profession!" Hilligans spat. "Because Laddie, I warn thee!" He shook a gloved finger at him, "If thy don't 'ave the courage to complete the cards, then thy cards, thy life, thy magic . . . thy *SOUL* will desert thee!" Clow forced himself to look at the man below him, as he continued his reproach. "Who will complete the cards THEN? Thy art Clow Reed, there is *NO* other in this life that can declare they 'ave same magic as thee." The old man was silent for a moment as he allowed his point to sink in; "Laddie, I ask thee . . ." he said quietly, either in his mind or aloud, Clow couldn't tell, "Who will complete the cards? If the answer ain't thyself . . . oh, Laddie, go jump off roof now." Clow's trembling stopped, at the suggestion; he swallowed again, as Hilligans walked away from him. "Because the *hell* you'll give thyself for the rest of eternity would be *infinitely* worse . . ."
The old oak door slammed shut with a resounding echo, as Hilligans left Clow standing on the curling stairs. His hand was still clutching the railing for support. He breathed deeply, not knowing quite what was causing him feel so troubled. He glanced up at the top of the stairs, a turning right, past six doors, and on your left, his study lay. His study, which would be the birthplace of four of the most powerful cards. He glanced down at the engraved, golden circle where Hilligans had stood.
There, Hilligans had suggested that Clow would find death a better alternative to not finishing the cards because he was too scared. Clow turned and put both hands on the dark railing. He realised he was precisely halfway between the third floor and the first. He could retreat down the stairs, admit that he couldn't, *wouldn't* finish the cards for fear of failure . . . Clow turned his head upward. "Or I can step up to the challenge . . ." he frowned worriedly as he considered his options. "To ascend or descend . . . to live my life in the knowledge that I never failed because I never tried . . . or to try . . . and fail, or succeed but still know that I tried . . ."
He turned away from the third floor; his foot hovered over the step below. He hesitated and pulled it back as if it was burning. He turned, and lifted his foot to step up but the sudden thought, //What if I can't do this?// made him stamp his foot back on to the stair he was trapped on. He closed his eyes, hoping that a vision would come, come and make his decision *for* him. Show him the blue haired boy standing, beaming triumphantly, at the top, or maybe the young girl, with the pink hat and the cloak, smiling confidently as she held the four cards in her pale yellow gloves. His shoulders drooped as he realised the future was not going to help him with this decision.
His eyes were still shut as he murmured to himself, "What are you going to do now, Reed?" He knew Hilligans was right, Clow was the only one that could complete the cards . . . but it seemed such a huge task, beyond him almost. He squeezed his eyes shut, and willed himself not to cry like some panicked child, facing his first teacher for his grade. It was then he felt the budge, a small push against his back. His eyes snapped open; there was a small sharp push against his back again. It was trying to force him up the stairs. He looked up; his cards were orbiting him again. He looked around to see which one was pushing him. The Move card floated into view, and pushed itself against his shoulder. The card was a weak one, and was only capable of moving small inanimate objects, but it was trying it's hardest to force Clow Reed, one of the most powerful Magicians in the world, up the stairs.
He smiled at it, and murmured, "You think I can do it . . ." The card moved back to the gap that the other cards left for it, he turned in a circle to look at each of them, " . . .You all do . . . don't you?"
The Move card was the first to show it's response, it began to glow, and the golden glow spread to the other cards, they hovered closer to him, and he could feel their magical warmth. He closed his eyes and absorbed their tender, trusting love, Clow could feel himself blushing.
"See Laddie?" Hilligans stood just three steps down from Clow, his harsh voice from before was gone, replaced by a knowing, soft tone. "They trust thee . . . an' I trust thee . . ." he walked up and past Clow, and paused five steps ahead of the young magician. He sniffled and looked down at him dispassionately, "Now come along an' stop this airy-fairy, carin' business . . ." he turned away, starting to walk again, "Thy 'ave work t' do Laddie, an' ain't no one else gonna do it for thee."
Clow paused, and looked up. Hilligans was at the top of the stairs, arms folded and a gruff but expectant look on his face. Before his mind had time to think of the self doubting thought again, he felt the move card ramming itself into his back, "Okay," he smiled as the cards glowed, "Okay, okay . . ." he began to laugh as the cards pushed themselves against his back and under his arms, determined to get him up to the top.
"Okay!" He laughed happily, "Okay, okay, *okay*! I'm going!" He said as he stepped up the stairs towards his study. "Arghaaa!" He sniggered as the cards forced him into a run. "I said I was going!"
Once he was at the top, the cards stopped their pushing. He paused again and turned back to them, "Thank you . . ." he bowed slightly, as the other cards piled themselves orderly on a near-by table, effectively saying that they would wait there until he was done, the Move card floated closer. Clow smiled, and pressed two fingers against the surface of the card. His first card bobbed slightly, drifting like it would in it's true form. As he dropped his fingers, the card floated closer and pushed itself against his shoulder, nudging him to go. He nodded to it, turn and precede to follow Hilligans to his study, aware that the card remained floating in the corridor, for a few seconds longer before shuffling itself into it's place in the pack.
Clow walked along the corridor, he smiled at Hilligans who stood in the open door way of his study . . . or at least that's what he had thought.
Clow stopped, as Hilligans faded and was replaced, the corridor faded and was replaced . . . replaced by . . .
"A vision?" Clow wondered, "Why now?" this vision wasn't like the others, it wasn't a fragment of any that he'd seen before . . .a snowflake, a single, white pure snowflake floated in front of him, he was just about to touch it when a sob from behind him made him turn quickly, the cheerful lion stood under a window, at the end of a corridor, one Clow knew was on the floor above. But the lion was growling at him, something, some*one* was clinging to his neck, sobbing. The light was coming from the wrong direction for Clow to see if it was a white haired or a black haired child. Clow suddenly wondered why he was so certain it was either of those . . .another snowflake floated and danced impossibly in front of him, it blew over his shoulder. Clow turned, where Hilligans had been standing, a thin dark figure now stood, and his features so completely hidden in the shadows. First the figure raised one hand, it held clumps of white mane, fine like a horse's, and Clow assumed it was from the lion's fine tail . . . then the figure raise his other hand, some sort of glinting blade grasped firmly in the bone white fingers. Clow's eyes widened in horror as the being tilted his head back and proceeded to slit his own, deathly pale thro- --
"Laddie?! Laddie?! Are you all right?!" Clow sat up with a sob caught in his throat. He pressed his hands against his mouth to bit back the wave of nausea. "Breathe slowly, Laddie!" Hilligans snapped concerned, he rubbed Clow's back in soothing circles. "Slowly," he murmured, "Slowly." The boy was as white as a sheet, as if he'd seen some sort of ghost. Hilligans was aware that Clow saw things, but he said they were like inspiring, reassuring, warm memories . . . this one obviously wasn't anything close to warm, reassuring or inspiring. Clow was shaking worse that he had been on the stairs earlier, and tears were streaking unchecked down his face. It was the first and last time that Marcibay Hilligans would see Clow cry . . . but it wasn't the last time Clow Reed would ever cry.
Hilligans had guided Clow to the kitchen, and sat him down. He wrapped a warm blanket around the boy's shoulders. He kept looking at the door, as if he expected whatever he had seen suddenly jump out on him, he had actually yelped when his cards floated in, full of concern for their boy master who had suddenly collapsed without reason. They were a part of his soul and were in some aware of what he had seen, but there was no way they could have interpreted it. Clow trembled, and shook so violently, Hilligans could actually hear his teeth chattering. Marcibay sighed, what the boy had seen had shaken him, shaken him to the core . . . he shushed the cards away, and sat besides Clow on the old bench. The boy was clenching and unclenching his fists, trying hard to calm down, trying desperately to hold in the tears, but that only made it worst.
Hilligans wrapped an arm around his back, and then one around his front, the boy resisted at first, stuttering something resembling, "I don't need . . ." but when he brought his head up and Hilligans meet his eyes with compassion, Clow broke. He broke down, and sobbed, and screamed, and shook, and shuddered, and did this until he could cry no more, until he fell into a fitful sleep, marred with dreams of cold silver blades and bone white skin, everything splattered with crimson red blood.
Hilligans sat for a full three hours, just rocking the boy gently; he wondered what the boy had seen. He rested his chin on the shiny, long black hair and was just dozing off when the cards suddenly burst out of the pack they had been resting in. They placed themselves on the table and began to shuffle themselves simply, they cut the deck, once, twice, three times, then three cards flipped out in front of him.
"Away with thy shenanigans . . . I've no time for thy games now."
The cards were insistent, and glowed, the three in front of him floated in front of his weather worn face. Hilligans sighed, then muttered a quiet curse, "Aye . . . I'll listen."
Their message was fairly simple to understand. The move was the first card, they wanted to move him. Sleep the next; they wanted him to have a proper sleep. "Thy want me t' move him somewhere where he can sleep, aye . . ."
The last card was the Power, they were offering him the strength to carry their master, "Thy realise that thy master would be mighty angry with thee for offerin' thy services without his consent?"
The card twirled and shuffled again, again three cards floated in front of him. Their simplistic message easy for him to read. The Dream card was the first, they were concerned about his dreams . . . it floated under a card that was revealed to be the Dark card, which glowed and then fell to the table lifeless. They didn't like his bad dreams . . . the Dream card floated under the Sweet card now. "Aye . . . I wish for him to 'ave sweet dreams too."
The cards gathered and the power card spun out again, Hilligans glanced from the card to the snoozing magician on his shoulder, back to the cards again, "I guess I could make an exception t'night . . . so what do I do?"
The next morning, the sunlight streamed in though the window, onto the four- poster bed. Clow frowned in his sleep; he always made sure the curtains were shut last thing at night, why was sunlight pouring into his room?
He groaned and rolled over, allowing his back to be warmed by the midday rays . . . //Midday?!// Clow's sleepy mind wondered, // Mister Hilligans *never* lets me sleep in that late . . .//
It was true that the gruff old coach driver was always up at the crack of dawn and made sure Clow never slept past breakfast's last call. In all truthfulness, that was the real reason both the dash card and the fly card had been created, Clow wasn't an early morning type of person, in his early teens he considered it a crime against humanity to be awake *before* twelve o'clock. But that was probably because his uncle always woke him in his youth as the first few rays of sunlight was slipping over the horizon, cutting into the night's last stand like a sharp gleaming blade—
"NO!" Clow sat up suddenly. He felt the tears welling up again and willed them away.
"So . . . you're awake, Laddie." Hilligans sat forward in his arm chair, "For a while there I thought you were going to sleep all day and miss lunch altogether." the craggy old man pushed himself up and out of the chair, and walked over to Clow's desk. There was a tray with a steaming teapot and a small lunch.
Clow sat up very straight, his pale hands clenched tightly, resting in his lap. The scarlet quilts served only to make the boy seem paler. His dark hair fell loosely around his shoulders, and he was staring very hard at the end of the bed.
"What is it Laddie?" Hilligans poured a cup of tea for the boy, Clow looked resolved, and maybe a slight bit ashamed.
"I'm sorry." Clow said quietly, he looked up at Hilligans who was bringing him a cup of tea.
"Sorry for what?"
Clow was silent for a few seconds, and then he looked at the end of the bed. Hilligans sat on the bed; he had a feeling he knew. He handed the young magician the china cup and saucer. "Tha' I had t' comfort thee. . .?"
Clow's shoulders drooped and he stared mutely into the teacup. He nodded quietly.
"Laddie . . ." Hilligans smiled slightly, "Thy art human, and I 'ave no doubt that whate'er thee saw would take the sturdiest man and make him weep as well. Now, drink thy tea . . . I 'ave work to do, an' so do thee . . . no doubt that thy will be plannin' thy last four cards today."
When Clow still didn't reply, still didn't raise his head from his tea gazing, Hilligans sighed and stood. He walked over to the bedroom door, "There's a small lunch for thee . . . thy Clow cards 'ave been hasslin' me th' 'hole time, so I want thee t' make an appearance for dinner tonight."
Clow nodded quietly. Hilligans shook his head, and closed the door silently; he was half way down the stairs when he heard Clow's voice in his mind.
//Thank you Mister Hilligans . . . expect me down at six o'clock sharp.//
Hilligans chuckled, and muttered both back through his mind, and aloud.
"Cheeky little beggar."
-------------------
And now it's Time for LEAVE IT TO DR MEGALOMANIA!!
Clow: Is it just my imagination or is this fic longer than usual?
DrM: It's not your imagination . . .
Clow: Good . . . [smiles and then grabs DrM by the collar] You said I'd be gettin' it on with someone!
DrM: Now that's your imagination!
Yue: [looks broken] But! But! But! You said!!
DrM: I know I did, I'm just messing with Clow's mind . . . anyway . . . be patient, the person he's getting it on with isn't there yet!
Hilligans: [puts away bondage stuff] Ooooohhh!
DrM: [covers eyes] Ewwww!! @___@;
Clow: now that was . . . I dunno what that was!! All I can say is that the next updating gonna get this ficcy bumped up to nc-17 . . . or 'R' whichever is the rating above 13! Mostly for the swearing . . . it's a couple of chappies after that I get to . . . [DrM covers his mouth]
DrM: Who died and made you author?! ¬_¬
Clow: You did . . . because I kill you now!!
DrM: PLEASE R&R!! [Looks at axe-wheedling Clow and runs away] AHHHHHHH!!! SAVE ME!!