Okay, thanks to all you wonderful people out there who reviewed and asked for a sequel: here it is. Now, personally, I think the story is real cute the way it is, so let's think of this as an alternative ending, okay?

            The italics (like this) are conversations Syaoran is remembering. All of them are with Sakura. They're not in chronological order.

Disclaimer: If I owned CCS, I would be happily exploiting my copyrights and getting tons of money. But I'm writing this instead, so you can pretty much tell I don't. CLAMP, Kodansha, and Nelvana do. (Want to know something? I've never EVER seen the dub! The translation in where I live was really good! Or so I thought.)

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            The sizzling of the frying pan could be heard in the silent kitchen, as the young man prepared his breakfast. Outside, rain fell in the populated streets of New York. The young men was a mess; hair wet and tussled, barefoot, towel carelessly slung over his shoulders. His crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his tanned, muscular chest, and his green, striped tie lay undone around his neck. With a quick movement, he placed the eggs and bacon on a plate, and sat down at the table, eating his breakfast.

"Mmm, Syaoran-kun, this is delicious! I love your cooking!" 

            "Well, what did you expect? I cooked it!"

            "Don't get all arrogant, now, Syaoran."

            "Oh? Why not?"

            "The noodles are burning."

            "ACK!"

            Like always, the memories brought a smile to his handsome face. His golden brown eyes twinkled, and his sharp face looked al the more soft. His thought, however, were interrupted by a most annoying ringing.

            "Kami, I hate this thing!" Syaoran exclaimed. "It always interrupts us! I'm sorry, Sakura."

 

            "That's okay, Syaoran-kun. I understand, it's part of your job. It's not like you can just turn it off or anything."

            "Why not? Sounds like a good idea."

            "Syaoran! You can't! What if there's an emergency or something?"

           

            "Either they deal with it alone," he answered, throwing the cell phone carelessly over his shoulder "Or they're screwed." He smiled, and kissed her softly.

            Syaoran snapped out of his daydream, and answered the still-ringing telephone.

            "Li." Pause. "Oh, good morning, Richard." Pause. "Yes, I know." Pause. "Well, then you should send Chan and Roberts to take care of it. They can join Ms. Garza for the 3 o'clock plane to San Francisco." Pause. "Okay. I want those papers on my desk by the time I'm finished with the 11 o'clock meeting." Pause. "Yes. Thank you, Richard. Good bye."

Syaoran hung up the cell. Looking at his wristwatch, he checked the time, and noticed he was going to be late. Jumping from the table, he rushed through his apartment, finished dressing, and finally walked out the door, briefcase and laptop  in one hand, juggling the car keys with the other.

            "Syaoran, why do you like your car so much?"

            "I don't know. Makes me feel… powerful, I guess. Don't laugh! It's true!"

            "I'm not laughing!" Glare. "Okay, maybe a little. But I don't care if you're crazy—"

            "I'm not crazy! I just happen to think my car is the best car in this world and the next!"

            "Whatever you say, love."

            Swerving swiftly to the traffic in his black Porsche, Syaoran had to smile. Truth be told, he loved his life. He loved the luxury, the power, the influence, the life-style he dealt with. He was what people called 'la crème de la crème'. He was living the dream. Or at least part of it.

            "What do you think it'll be like?" Sakura asked.

            "What?"

            "The future."

            "Oh. I don't know. What would you like it to be like?"

            "Well…. I don't know…, we'll be married after college, at the cute chapel in the middle of the park. And we'll wait two years, then have three kids. Two girls, twins. And a boy, he'll be the oldest. Also--"

            "You've had a lot of time to think about it, haven't you? And who says we'll be married?"

"Mou! Don't make fun of me, Syaoran!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But… only three kids?"

Stepping out of his car, Syaoran shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. There was no use in recalling what might have been, it only served to depress him. He walked into the fancy restaurant, and handed his coat and umbrella to the host, he was led to a table were a man and a woman awaited his arrival.

"Mr. Li." The couple stood up to greet him

"Mr. Moore. Mrs. Moore." Syaoran greeted the couple, shaking hands with them. "Please, call me Syaoran."

"Sakura."

"Yes, Syaoran?"

"Oh, sorry!  Nothing, I just like saying you're name."

" I like it when you say my name."

"I like it, too."

"You already said that."

"I know."

"Very well, Syaoran. You may call me Eugene. And this is my wife, Margaret." The woman flashed a particularly bright smile at Syaoran. "Let's sit down." Over the next half an hour, the three of them talked and ate. Syaoran vaguely remembered ordering duck, and something about supplying the computers for a new theme park.  But what he remembered the most was the couple sitting in the table at the other side of the room. They were close together, their hands clasped, touching each other's hair and face constantly. Syaoran could see that they could have enough of each other, they needed to be in constant touch.

"I don't understand why couples are ALWAYS holding hands, or hugging, or touching each other's faces. So they're in love, we get it!"

"I think it's sweet. You're just jealous."

*sight* "Maybe I am."

"Think we'll ever have someone like that?"

"I'm sure you will."

"You will too, Syaoran-kun."

"I hope."

 

He and Sakura had been like that, a long time ago. A lifetime ago. With a sight, he bade his new clients a polite good-bye, and called for the bill. While he sat there waiting, a tall, blue-haired figure approached him. With ease, the man sat himself in front of Syaoran.

"Fancy meeting you here, my cute descendant."

"Eriol!" Syaoran exclaimed, and shook his hand. "Long time, no see. What are you doing in NY?"

"Business. Nothing to interesting. The Sheffield account."

"You nailed the Sheffield account? Congratulations! This calls for drinks." With a hand gesture, Syaoran called the waiter.

"And you, Syaoran? Still Número Uno?" Eriol took a sip from his glass.

"I like to think so. But let's no talk about that." Syaoran said, taking his drink. "How have you been? What's up in good, old Tomoeda?"

"Well, Chiharu's pregnant. Again. No doubt Takashi let you know."

"Yes, he did call. I'm to be the godfather."

"Congratulations! That's great." He took another sip. " Oh, and Rika? She's getting divorced."

"Really? From that Italian guy? Or was it the Latin one?"

"Latin. But you have no idea. She and Terada are getting married again, next year."

"Again?" Syaoran set his glass down. He was very much enjoying their little chat. It was nice just to let go for awhile, talk about nothing at all.

"Yes. Oh, and how has Naoko been? Haven't seen her for awhile now, not since she moved here last year." Eriol said.

"Well, I see her frequently. She's getting a lot of attention with her new column on the Times. There's even talk about a book."

"Well, she seems to be doing great."

"And Tomoyo? I hear she's coming over here for a fashion show."

"Yes, she is. The autumn line will be launched in two weeks, so… It's the biggest news back home. Well, apart form Sakura's wedding." Syaoran was quiet after this comment. "No doubt you got the invitation, right?"

"About a month ago." Syaoran's voice sounded dry.

"Are you attending? It's tomorrow, you know."

"Yes, I know."

"So?"

"I don't think so. It would be too awkward. It's…it's better this way."

"Well, I think you should go. It'll be good for you."

"But—"

"You guys were great together! And before that, you were great friends. You should at least try and save that."

"I can't. I love her too much. I don't want her to have to be troubled by my presence, to have to hide her happiness."

"Look, Syaoran I don't know what happened between the two of you, but—"

"Neither do I." Both men were quiet for a moment, until Syaoran sighted. Taking out his wallet and putting some bills on the table, he said, "Well, it's was nice seeing you, but I've got a meeting in exactly… nine minutes, so you'll have to excuse me." Syaoran got up and shook Eriol's hand.  "Will you be here next week?  I can get us tickets to the Nicks/Lakers game."

"Sure. It sounds like fun. I'll see you then."

"Bye." Syaoran started to walk away, but Eriol's voice stopped him.

"She's not happy, you know? Whatever she says, she's not." Syaoran stood still for a minute, then walked out of the restaurant and into his car.

"Syaoran, I'm so—"

"No, don't say it."

"But I have too! It wouldn't be fair to you or to me if I didn't."

"Why?"

"I'm just… scared. I don't know what's happening anymore. I don't want this. I want a divorce."

"But we're great together! Everyone says so! We know so!"

"I know!" Sakura started crying "I know… but it just isn't right. It's just not."

"Don't you love me?"

"I… I don't know anymore. I'm sorry, Syaoran."

"Well… if this is what you want…" His heart was breaking, yet, he refused to let the tears flow.

"It is."

"Okay then. But please, remember: no matter what happens, you can always be sure of one thing: I love you; now and forever." He leaned in and kissed her: one last, long, sad, desperate kiss in which he left half his heart. He was the first to break away. "Goodbye, Kinomoto Sakura."

"Goodbye, Syaoran." She murmured at his retreating back.

Syaoran reached out to the glove compartment and took out the bottle of aspirins. Taking three, he closed the compartment and pulled into his company's parking lot. He rushed through the hallways, politely returning his employees' greetings and gestures until he reached the elevator. There was only one other person in there beside him: a young woman in her mid-twenties. When turned to face Syaoran and, for a moment, his breath caught in his throat: she was Sakura. But then he blinked, and Sakura was gone, and only the stranger stood there.

"Goodbye, Syaoran."

Shaking his head, he exited the elevator. 'Looks like the aspirins have finally got to me.' He thought. Or maybe it wasn't the aspirins, but the loneliness. He was tired of living alone, tired of going 'home' at three in the morning after partying all night and to find no one awake, fretting over him. He was tired of waking up to an empty, silent apartment, of cooking only for himself. 'But chose this. Remember?'

"Goodbye, Syaoran."

He had told Tomoyo that this was all about work, about a chance to enhance Li Enterprises. But she saw right through it, and he knew. Yet, she didn't comment, she didn't try to talk him out of it. She understood. She understood he had to get away form Tomoeda, from Japan, from her. And she let him go.

By now, he was sitting at his desk, gazing intently at the pile of papers he had to work on. A particular one caught his attention. It was cream-colored, with golden trimmings. He took it in his hands, broke the seal, and opened it. Inside, written in fancy script, there were the names of Sakura and her fiancée, bold and big and so permanent looking.

"Sya--…Li? Here are the divorce papers."

"Just…just leave them there, on the desk. I'll sign them later."

"Okay. Well… I just want to thank you and to tell you that—"

"Don't. Don't say anything. Just… just leave."

"But, Syao—"

"Here, I'll sign them now. Just take them, and leave. Please."

"But—"

"Please."

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the photo album that lay in one of the bookcases and something made him walk to it and take it. Admiring the deep, wine red of the cover, he sighted. Syaoran opened it randomly, his family and friend's faces smiling at him. And there she was: radiant, smiling, carefree… just like he remembered her.

"Release!"

"Syaoran-kun?"

"Hoe!"

"It's not my fault, he didn't wake me up."

"Good morning!"

"I'm not a monster!"

"It's okay. I'm still here."

Syaoran smiled, caressing the picture.

"Kero! You've made a mess!"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

"Syaoran, be nice!"

"Ahh! I'm late!"

"Kawaii!"

"Return!"

"I'll wait for you, even if I have to wait forever."

He was submerged in memories, the sweet voice of Sakura filling his head.

"How did you do that, again? The square of the cube of what?"

"I do."

"Kiss me."

"Stop fighting!"

"I know my Mom is watching from up above."

"Really? Is that so?"

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"Hoe! Dinner's burning!"

"I love you too, Syaoran."

That instant, he made up his mind. He was gong to the wedding; even if she was starting a new life, with someone else, not being there meant he was out of her life forever. And Syaoran didn't want that. He wanted to remain part of it, even if it only was as a tiny face in the background of one her wedding pictures.

Slamming the book shut, he opened the door of his office. "Miss Williams? Please, cancel all my appointments for tomorrow and reserve a plane ticket for Tokyo, Japan on the next flight available."

"Goodbye, Syaoran."

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So… like it? A little hurried, I know. But I was getting restless. Besides, I had trouble writing it. I didn't want it to be all corny and clichéd (which it turned out to be, anyways) I think there might just be a third part for this, specially for all you sap-lovers out there. Besides, you still don't know what happened between Syaoran and Sakura! Would you like a third part?

Bye! Thanks for reading! Oh, and please, please, please review!

--Kirjava-chan