'confrontation'
Meilin watched the golden crest of the temple gleam as the sun approached the western hills.
"You don't?"
"Nope." Eric took a big lick from his ice cream cone, and wondered again why she'd given him such a strange look when he professed his favorite flavor was chocolate. It wasn't like it was an uncommon preference. "Sure don't."
"You don't think the government should help the poor?"
"No way. I can't believe you're talking like this, Meilin, I really can't. Don't you realize where you live? Hong Kong is – was, anyway – famous for its total lack of welfare and aid programs. Why do you think it's one of the most prosperous cities in the world? Of course, what with the commie takeover, who knows how long it will last."
"I was a little busy to pay attention to politics," she reminded him, and he grinned.
"Well, I can't complain about that. I, for one, am quite glad that you chose to train like you did. But getting back to my point, nobody should ever, ever trust the government to aid the poor. They'll do a terrible job of it."
She shook her head as they ambled through Temple Street.
"That's just the spoiled rich child talking."
"Not at all," he corrected her. "It's the obnoxious college student talking. Look." He covered her hand in his and held her cone still while he leaned forward and took a big lick.
"Hey! That's mine!"
"But I got more ice cream. It was great." He smacked his lips together in enjoyment and grinned. She gave him a baffled look.
"But that's because you took mine."
"Aha! And that is why government can never help. They can never give someone ice cream – or whatever – without taking it from someone else. It's called taxation. Or the annual bloodletting, if you're talking to my father. For one to gain, another must lose. How is that helping?"
Meilin nibbled at her ice cream uncertainly.
"But… it just seems so immoral to not lend a hand to people when they need it."
"It seems pretty immoral to me that they have to steal from someone else to do it. Redistributing money isn't creating wealth. The IRS took thirty percent of my paycheck last summer when I worked as a lifeguard. What would I have done with the money if I'd been allowed to keep it? Paid for my tuition, for one thing. And probably picked up a new surfboard to boot. Buying that would have created a job for someone, and giving out welfare wouldn't."
She didn't look as though she knew how to reply to that, and he chuckled.
"Remember, taking something to give to someone else is never noble. No matter how much the recipients say they need it. Hold still." He reached out and put a hand against her shoulder, then licked his thumb and rubbed it against her skin. Her eyes widened considerably, and he blushed. "You got a little… strawberry ice cream on your chin."
"I can -"
"No, I got it." He pulled away but could not break his gaze. The sun was beginning to set, and her face was cast in that golden light that had so entranced him two days earlier. At length she dropped her eyes when she noticed her ice cream was running down over her hand.
"Oh! Oh, what a mess. This is embarrassing." She reddened as she tried to catch up with the trickling rivulets. "I'm so clumsy."
He snorted at that. For anyone as graceful and sure-footed as she was to think she was clumsy… it was laughable.
"Not at all. You look tasty – all strawberry flavored." She licked her fingers and giggled, and he took a big bite of his cone.
*****
Li was stomping grumpily through the commercial district when he jerked to a halt. Why was he staring at the face of that man across the street? He looked very familiar. It wouldn't come to him, and he shook his head in frustration. But before he could continue on his way, the first was joined by another, this one bearing a red band across his brow. Instantly he recalled the encounter in Bird Street and stiffened. There was something about that group that felt wrong, and he reached out with his hand and closed his eyes.
It was weak, not as strong as it had been the day before, but he was certain it was the same.
But what did they have to do with Meilin? Absolutely nothing… unless it wasn't a coincidence that he'd seen that vision of her right before they arrived. Maybe there was a connection. In any case, he really had nothing to lose by following them.
A large and noisy bus trundled past, and when it was gone so were they. Which way had they gone? Anxiously he dashed into the street, ignoring the blaring horns. Something was calling at his instincts, telling him that this was important. He had to find them again.
*****
It didn't seem that this good day could end. Eric knew he should be worrying about his would-be kidnappers, knew that he should be holing up and hiding. He should be haggling with his dad about a plane ticket; spring break was officially half over and time was getting short. And he really should be moping just a little about Jessica. But instead he took Meilin's hand lightly in his and continued to wander the city. The busy downtown streets were crowded and lively, no one willing to go inside just yet despite the gathering clouds overhead.
"Hey, check it out. You can do all that." He paused by a boy performing gymnastics on the sidewalk for spare change. The crowd watched him move through several backflips before touching his knees to his chest and finishing off with a back tuck. Everyone clapped.
"Go on, show them what you got."
"What?"
"Just like on the railing today, right?"
"But Eric, I -"
"Go on, show off. It'll be good for you." He pushed her forward and she squeaked in protest. Everyone looked at her quizzically, and she flushed. Eric motioned her to go ahead, and she fidgeted. Playing around on her own was one thing, but it had been a long time since she'd gone up against someone else in competition. That was a time she didn't like to think about…
But there was something insistent in his blue eyes and indefatigable smile. He was practically begging her to show off, because he believed she was the best and wanted everyone to know it. A strange feeling stirred in her chest and she turned to exchange a measuring look with the sidewalk performer.
Then, before she could change her mind, she rolled into a cartwheel. The cartwheel was followed by one backflip, then another and another. A whoosh of surprise went up from the crowd and she heard some cheers. Still one more, then a tight hands-free back flip. Everyone started clapping but she wasn't through yet. Bouncing off the hard cement as though it were rubber, she vaulted into the air for a spectacular aerial twist, hugging her arms close to her chest and feeling the exhiliration shoot through her bloodstream. It had been so long since she'd done anything like this before other people. She'd forgotten how wonderful it felt, but when she landed amidst the outburst of applause, she realized she wasn't even looking at any of them. Instead she could only stare at the blue-eyed tourist directly across from her. He wasn't clapping or cheering like the others. His smile alone said it all.
"That was so awesome!" he cheered later, when they'd left the crowds behind. He squeezed her hand in triumph. "You were amazing! Poor kid, you really gave him a run for his money. But hey, that's what capitalism is all about."
She giggled in spite of herself.
"I should not have done that."
"Why not?"
"I just shouldn't have. Oh, that was wrong to show off like that. I've been told many times not to do that, but…"
"But it was fun, right? Believe me, it's not wrong to show off at the stuff you're good at. Of course, you're good at everything, so -"
"Eric, I am not good at everything."
"Please." He held up a finger. "You can kick ass like there's no tomorrow. You can do that Olympic stuff back there without blinking an eye, and do it on a high-rise to boot." He held up a third finger. "Plus you can sing."
"Eric, please stop," she laughed.
"Fine. Just tell me one thing you're terrible at, and I'll stop. Because I don't believe there is one."
"No, no, there is," she assured him.
"And it can't be something like 'laughing' or 'smiling'. You are good at that, you just don't do it nearly enough."
"It's not that." She stopped walking and he spun around to face her, hand still in hers. She leaned in close with a conspiratorial look in her eyes. "Are you listening?"
"Completely."
"Okay, here goes." She took a deep breath. "Cakes."
"What?"
"Cakes. Baking them, decorating them, even stirring the mix – I'm horrible at it."
Eric snorted.
"You can't cook? That's it?"
"No, I can cook," she corrected. "I've been cooking Chinese and Japanese food for years, and I can do it quite well. It's just cakes. I can't figure it out; it's a mystery." She shrugged.
"So that's it. You can cook, but you can't bake a cake."
"Exactly."
It was so absurd, but there was such a serious look in her eye that he had to laugh. She looked surprised, but then she laughed too, and then he laughed louder and she followed suit until they were both leaning against each other in an effort to remain upright. He wasn't even sure what was so funny, but it was the kind of silly laughter that fed on itself long after the joke had passed.
When he couldn't breathe anymore and the stitch in his side was crippling him, he stopped and straightened.
"You know what?"
She swallowed the last of her panting laughter.
"What?"
"I've always been more of a pie man myself."
"Pie man?"
"Sure. Apple, cherry, rhubarb, you name it. I think they're more fun than cakes. You get to make the crust and the filling, and then there's all that syrupy sweetness that's so tasty. My grandmother makes a hell of a rhubarb pie – family Christmas treat." He pressed his fingertips to his lips with an expression of delight, and her smile grew.
"So you like pies?"
"I like pies."
"I've never tried to make a pie before," she said thoughtfully. "I wonder if I would be good at it?"
"I bet you would."
"Oh." They were so close, how they were, all it would take was a tiny movement. He was standing so near that he could feel the rise and lift of her lungs as the laughter died away; he could see the sparkle and animation in her eyes as they spoke. She was on a high from her little exhibition earlier, now was the perfect time.
His intention was interrupted by a crack of thunder and a cloudburst. As befitting a tropical monsoon, the water rushed downward in a deluge and soaked them instantly. All around them people scattered and disappeared indoors. Meilin made as if to run for shelter, but Eric was getting tired of this. A man could only take so many interruptions before he took matters into his own hands, and he snagged her wrist.
"What are you doing? We're getting wet!"
"I say, are we? I hadn't noticed."
"Eric, come on, I'm soaked already!" She certainly was. He tried to keep his eyes above her chestline as he pulled her more toward the center of the empty street. "What are you doing?"
"What? It's not like it's cold or anything. In fact, it feels kind of nice." He opened up his mouth, face tilted upward, and felt the hard rain wash his face free of grime. "C'mon, didn't you ever play in the rain when you were a kid? This is great!"
"Eric, this is not the time to be silly. We need to get inside."
"Pish-tosh" he declared, just because it was a fun word to say when the opportunity arose. "Did you or did you not ever play in the rain when you were a kid?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Because it may explain why it's so hard for you to have fun."
"I know how to have fun! But this is not it."
"Then that answers my question. You don't."
She made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat and tried to pull out of his grip, but he held on doggedly.
"Eric, you realize you can't keep me out here. I have three black belts – you'd never stand a chance."
"Oh, you think so?"
"Of course I think so," she replied defiantly, a little disconcerted by the fiendish look in his eyes.
"Well, I'd say that constitutes a challenge." He slid his hefty backpack off his shoulders, and it landed with a thump on the rain-lashed asphalt beneath them. "It's time for you to meet… the Tickle Master!"
It was an English word that Meilin was not immediately familiar with, and in her moment of distraction, Eric lunged for her ribs. Taken by surprise, she shrieked and tried to break away, but he already had her in a vulnerable position and mercilessly went for under her arms.
"Stop – stop it!" she gasped, writhing helplessly. "What – what is this?"
"Oh my god, you've never been tickled before?" He was so shocked that his hands stopped moving, but he didn't let go just yet. She was pressed up close to him now, their wet shirts an almost nonexistent barrier between them.
Confused, she shook her head. "I don't understand. What is it for?"
"This." He began again, moving professionally down the sides of her ribs and across her belly as she begged for relief and mercy. "Oh please. I'm just getting started, missy. You've never been tickled before, so we have a lot of making up to do."
"No!" she pleaded, her feet scrabbling across the ground as she tried to gain footing. It was hopeless, and she buckled again under his assault. Her side was killing her – she was sure this laughter would asphyxiate her if she couldn't stop soon. "I – I'm stronger than this; I have a black belt -"
"Amazing how ineffective that is against the Tickle Master, isn't it? All your Bruce Lee tricks can't save you now. Nothing beats a good tickle."
Together on an isolated street corner and wet through to the bone, they wrestled for dominance. This was Eric's domain though, and it was never really a contest. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and picked her up off her feet before swinging her around, and she yelped again in delight. He was laughing too, and felt the first hints of exhaustion creeping up on him. Crouching, he dropped her to the wet street with her head cushioned against his backpack. She was still in the throes of her giggles, and he straddled her waist to lean over and face her.
"Well? Can I assume you surrender? You've obviously met your match."
"Never," she hiccuped. "I'll never…" She lost the rest to a wheezing breath, as Eric leaned closer, drawn inexorably by those lips. Closer and closer, until his nose was just over hers. The rain was still pounding away at his back, unceasing. She was absolutely still beneath him, with no hint of rejection or desire in her eyes. He was still unsure if she even wanted it, but he couldn't hold back anymore. He wanted it too much.
And finally, his lips found hers. It was a connection he'd been hungering for for so long, he could feel his heart give a little leap at the first touch. She was smooth and soft, and still tasting just a little like strawberries, and he lost no time before parting her lips with his tongue and inserting it gently. She made the tiniest of murmurs in the back of her throat before opening her mouth still further and allowing him in completely. This he accepted gratefully and he pressed against her, exploring long and lovingly before he pulled away at last. His tongue brushed over her lip just a little as he departed, and she shivered beneath him. Hovering just over her, he waited until she opened her eyes. There was a bewildered and dazed look in them, as though no one had ever kissed her before.
She said nothing and he said nothing, but simply stared into one another's eyes for a moment that lasted forever. Only the rain was speaking. Eric felt a little nervous. He could feel that she had enjoyed it, that she had wanted him, but still her expression was unreadable. It was impossible to see her thoughts.
He was opening his mouth to speak when someone beat him to it.
"Go for it, gwei lo," someone snickered. "C'mon, whatcha waiting for?" An audience of four very familiar men were sauntering up, grinning. Much to his relief, Jing Kun was not present, but the mood was still spoiled. He groaned and rolled off of Meilin.
"Not again. Won't they ever give up?"
She shrugged and pushed herself upright, still looking a little dizzy. Their attackers were spreading out now, moving to surround them. Instinctively both Meilin and Eric backed up to the curb, and Meilin raised her fists.
"Just walk away," she said coldly. "And leave him alone. I am beginning to lose patience."
"You're beginnng to lose patience?" one of them mocked. "Imagine how we feel. Here we thought he was going to be so easy, and then you keep popping up. We're all tired of it." They all nodded grimly. "No more games. He's coming with us this time."
"No," she answered calmly, "he's not."
And the fight began.
Li kicked at a puddle of water in frustration and raked his wet bangs off his forehead. All this rain was only making him grouchier, and he wondered if he just ought to give up and go home. He couldn't think why he was doing this anyway, there seemed no rational purpose to it.
He'd tailed the two men for a couple blocks before losing them behind a construction site, near a half-completed skyscraper. For an hour he'd searched the neighborhood thoroughly, but came up dry. He'd been about to shrug and give it a miss when he spotted them again – or most of them anyway. This time there were four of them, with the first one now gone. But they were all wearing that red band, and they gathered on the corner to confer amongst themselves about something. One of them spoke and smacked his fist against his palm, and the others nodded. Finally they turned and crossed the street, Li following at a reasonable distance. He'd been walking for hours, and his feet hurt, but now his curiosity was too much to ignore.
It was funny, though. For all their apparent determination, they didn't really seem very sure of where they were going. He shadowed them up and down several blocks, gradually working their way through downtown in a haphazard manner. He was forced to keep well back, as they would suddenly double back without warning. It was as if, he decided, they were looking for something that was on the move, something they weren't quite sure where it was. He could sympathize.
They glanced up in annoyance as the rain began to fall, then they stiffened and took off at a run.
Hey, wait!
Taken by surprise, Li broke into a dash, but he hadn't seen which way they'd gone and paused by an intersection. Five minutes of frantic checking produced no results, and now he was at a dead-end again.
He splashed through the puddle, completely wet already anyway, wondering if he should just go home. That was when he caught another flash of that same feeling, much stronger than it had been earlier, and clearly quite close. He turned on his heels and ran lightly down the street, then turned the corner. Everything was completely quiet now; everyone had sensibly retreated indoors. The streetlights emitted a fitful glow into the darkness, hazy with all the raindrops. Still he pressed forward, covering the distance in long and easy strides. He turned another corner and sucked in his breath.
He could see them easily now; they were fighting someone. The four of them against one, but that one was doing a pretty good job of holding them off. He watched as he bounced off one and kicked another before landing easily on his feet and spinning into another back kick that sent a third sprawling. It was good technique, something that he himself would have probably used in such a situation.
No, wait. That was his technique. This was his style, down to the last motion, and he came to an uncertain stop. This person was fighting his fight. How could that be?
He squinted in the ambiguous light and found himself wondering if this person was even a guy. He was awfully thin and light, and a little on the short side…
He inhaled sharply as a possibility suggested itself, and broke into a run again. One of the attackers yelled as he lunged forward, but the defender caught his ankle and sent him crashing into a lamppost before turning to deal with another. For just a moment, her long wet hair was flicked into the air before adhering to her shirt again. And in that moment, Li realized he knew. Unbelievably enough, he had found her.
Hovering uneasily near the corner, Eric watched Meilin trade blows with one of their attackers. He almost didn't hear the running footsteps over the pelting rain, and turned just in time to see someone streak past him, running toward the fight.
"Mei -" Eric began to warn, then cut himself off as the newcomer launched into the air with a flying side kick, his foot slamming into Meilin's opponent and sending him sprawling.
Everyone froze as the man skidded across the pavement, and Li landed lightly on his feet before her. For one brief moment, she regarded him with shocked eyes.
And then she pulled back and struck him so hard across the face that he stumbled backwards.
"Ow- ouch!" he yelped, holding his hand to his jaw. "What was that for?"
Meilin planted her hands on her hips and scowled at him.
"What do you think you're doing, Syaoran? I'm in the middle of something here!"
It was so unexpected, he didn't know what to say. He could only stare at her in bewilderment.
Eric gave a short whistle to grab Meilin's attention.
"On your left!"
She reacted instantly, ducking to avoid the punch and then coming up from underneath to grab his wrist and pull him over her shoulder. He hit the pavement with a painful-sounding smack and groaned. Another one yelled a battle cry and skipped off one foot to deliver a kick to her face, but he never made it. Snarling a little, Li intercepted the attacker and kneed him solidly in the ribs before elbowing him in the chin.
"Stop that!" Meilin snapped, and snatched the man's shirt to pull him out of Li's grasp. "This is my fight, do you mind?" She kneed him brutally in the ribs before elbowing him in the chin – it had been her idea first, damn it – before twisting and throwing him against the curb. Then she returned her glare to Li. "What are you even doing here?"
"Wh-what am I doing here? What do you think I'm doing here? I'm looking for you!"
Meilin made an annoyed noise in her throat and stamped her foot.
"You shouldn't have bothered."
"Shouldn't have bothered?" Li repeated, feeling as though he'd left reality behind somewhere. "You're my cousin! I came to find you because I thought you were in danger!"
"Well I wasn't!"
Li gestured wildly to indicate their bemused audience of attackers.
"You could've fooled me!"
Meilin threw up her hands in frustration. "This is so like you."
"Like what?"
"You! You don't even know what's going on and you just throw yourself into the fight anyway, convinced that everybody needs your help. You don't know when to back off and leave something alone!"
Li gasped in indignation. "As if you're one to be talking. Who thought she could take on the Fight Card all alone and with no help?"
"That was different, Syaoran, this has nothing to do with you or the damn Cards. I know what I'm doing!"
That otherworldly sense that he'd been picking up on these men flashed through his memory then, and he shook his head.
"No, you don't."
It had definitely been the wrong thing to say. She stiffened and took a step back, looking as though she'd just been hit across the face. He could identify.
Eric caught one of the gang giving him a puzzled look, and he could only shrug, nonplussed. He didn't understand any of what was going on, or who this guy was that seemed to provoke such a reaction from her. All he did know was that he would have given his right arm just then to know Cantonese. She lifted her chin and spat a retort then, and the newcomer flinched.
"Don't you take that attitude with me, Meilin. How dare you? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
"Oh I'm sorry, Syaoran," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you get left behind? Feeling left out? A little unwanted?"
Fed up with all the back-and-forth, someone else got up the gumption to charge Meilin.
"Meilin, watch out!" Eric yelped, and she crouched and threw him over her back. Li bristled as he noticed the blonde man for the first time, and marched a couple steps toward him.
"Who is this?"
Meilin glared haughtily. "Wouldn't you love to know?"
"Hi," Eric said nervously, eyeing the malevolent glare of the young man. "I guess you… know each other? Can I just say that Meilin has -"
"Shut up," Li said coldly, in English. Li was a little shorter than Eric, but clearly just as lethal as Meilin was in the martial arts. Eric shut up.
"Look, Meilin," Li tried again, attempting to soften his tone. "You're upset. I can see that. I don't know where you've been," and here he flashed a scathing look at Eric, "or what you've been up to. But you're going to get hurt. So why don't you just come home, and we'll talk about it."
Meilin didn't have a chance to answer before one of their attackers picked himself up off the street.
"No!" he growled throatily. "They're not leaving! They're not getting away!" He barreled toward Meilin with the idea of tackling her, but he never even got close. Li took one skipping kick and felled him with a blow to the face. He was knocked flat on his back, and didn't have a chance to move before Li yanked his pendant off and activated the sword.
"Next person that goes for her gets a hole in the throat. Got it?"
His victim gulped as the point dug lightly into his flesh. Everyone took a step back.
"Whoa," Eric murmured softly. He could hardly believe his eyes; he'd seen that sword materialize out of thin air. Who was this guy? What was going on? Meilin didn't seem impressed at all, and just crossed her arms.
"Come on, Meilin, let's go home. You don't have to go back to your parents, you can sleep at my place. Sakura's here too; we've both been worried sick."
There was no reply; only the continuous splatter of raindrops on the pavement could be heard. Li frowned and felt a flicker of anxiety.
"Meilin, enough. You have to come home now. I – I promise I won't yell. I won't be angry. But you have to come with me."
Whatever he was saying, Meilin clearly didn't like it and took a step back. A pair of headlights pierced the rainy darkness and Eric looked back to see a truck bearing down toward the blind corner. It was a tight, sharp turn, and the driver would have to slow down. He crouched to pick up his backpack.
"Damn it, Meilin, answer me!" Another step backward, and Li clutched the hilt of his sword as he tensed up. "Don't you walk away from me!"
"Who," she said shakily, "do you think you are? This is not your mission, Syaoran, you are not in control out here. I'm not ten years old anymore, and you do not order me around like that."
Li ground his teeth and tried to force back his vexation.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. But I'm worried about you, and I want you to come home with me. So let's go, okay?" He held out his hand with a hopeful smile of invitation on his face. It was irritating to have to beg like this, but already he could see she was weakening. She loved him, she'd never been able to refuse him anything that he asked. She lowered her arms to her sides and hesitated.
The truck reached the corner and slowed for the turn. It was one of those produce trucks for the open air market, empty except for a few crushed melons on the flatbed. Nimbly Eric grabbed at the near side rod and used the weight of his backpack to swing himself up onto the wooden surface.
"Meilin, come on! Let's go!"
Li's breath caught in his throat when he saw her look from him to the blonde holding out his hand.
"Meilin, don't you even think about it," he warned. "Meilin?"
They had known each other as long as they'd been alive. He knew her every expression, her every motion. Even in the drenched gloom he could see the decision in her eyes.
"No!" He pushed himself forward, but he didn't have a chance. No one could sprint faster than Meilin and she had a good head start. The truck was picking up speed now, but Eric stretched out on the bed and extended his hand. She was coming up fast, her fingertips just brushing his.
"Meilin!" Li yelled behind her, and she drew on a fresh spurt of determination. Solidly she grasped Eric's wrist, and he yanked hard. The last thing Li saw was Eric pulling her aboard and wrapping her in his arms, and Meilin burying her face in his shirt.
And then the truck turned the corner and they were gone, out of sight. On cue, the rain died off, and he was left standing in the street in complete and utter shock.
Sh-she left me. She ran away… and she left me. She left me.
There was a slight sound behind him and he turned slowly, his sword in his hand and murder in his eyes. The four men, looking decidedly worse for wear thanks to the ministrations of Meilin and himself, shuffled uncertainly and backed away. He raised the blade in warning, and they all exchanged looks of agreement before whirling around and running.
He let them go. He couldn't even think about pursuing them, couldn't think about anything except that look in her eyes before she turned and began to run. She had left him, and she hadn't even cared.
He choked a little on a sob and dropped to his knees. The sword clattered to the pavement beside him and he braced his hands against the ground, swallowing. In all his nightmares since returning home, he'd never imagined anything as horrible as this.
The rain died as abruptly as it had begun, just as they turned the corner and everyone disappeared from view. And Meilin could take it no longer but pushed her head up underneath Eric's chin, seeking comfort in his arms. And burst into hysterical tears.
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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters