(Gasps and hits the floor)
Fifty-four!!!
(Picks herself up and splashes face with water) You readers are too sweet to me, too wonderful and kind for words. I was proud of chapter 11 when I put it up but I never dreamed that it would earn 54 reviews. Never in my year and a half on has an update generated such a response. That's not only more than any I've ever gotten for a single chapter, that's more than some sTouya review counts total.
I've been struggling through a love-hate relationship with Wild Flower ever since I typed the first word; for varied reasons it's the most difficult thing I've ever attempted. Personal problems and life have interfered, forcing it into hiatus, and yet still you remain faithful. Already it's leaps and bounds ahead of my previously most-reviewed sTouya, Sun and Moon, and I'm awestruck knowing that I just might break 500. YES, I'm a review monger. I can't help it, none of my friends even follow anime let alone read fanfiction, and here in Thailand there's no one to share my stories with. You're all I have! And I love you!
I never do this, but in the face of a such a staggering number of complimentary reviews I feel the need to interrupt this suddenly angsty tale and respond to just a few comments. Many questions were asked repeatedly so I've grouped my answers into bite-size sections for your convenience.
No, I've never touched a sword in my life. But I took what I knew about hand-to-hand combat and applied it to weapons, making up a few terms along the way to make it sound like I know what I'm doing. If, in the dreary days of midwinter, you need a thought to make you smile then picture this: me, prancing around my bedroom in pajamas with my umbrella as I try to choreograph Li's swordfight without bumping into the bed or whacking the closet door.
Me, borrow lines from Star Wars? I would never stoop to such levels! It's all in your imagination, there is no plagiarism, in fact there is no Star Wars. Now just look right at this red light while I put on my sunglasses…
Our unidentified but evil bounty hunter was sealing the others' doors shut with a little magic that died when he did. If you remember, a million years ago in chapter 4, by the time the police began investigating Li's victims, the disc in the security camera was missing. That homing beacon was the scraping noise Tomoyo heard outside the ship in chapter 8. Li never knew it, but the guy was on his trail from day one in this story. Talk about bad timing, huh?
Random comment: Mao Zedong once made a disparaging remark about 'the running dogs of capitalism'. We at Cato thought it was amusing, so The Running Dogs became the name for our softball team. Remember this.
To all those that expressed some form of hatred for Touya, a wish that he would pull a certain piece of anatomy from another piece of anatomy, or that he would just conveniently disappear: Curb homicidal tendencies, he is not going to get away with it. I am not one for spoilers, but I will subtly point out that he was never tortured in chapter 7.
And of course, many of you couldn't resist predicting where this will go. Some were spot on for certain points, others less so. I can tell some of you know me very well, and that's scary. Am I predictable? Do you love me in spite of it?
Things become tricky. We've reached a turning point in the story (duh), and the barriers/secrets begin to crumble. Emotions will fly. Eric angsts about politics. Everyone else angsts about everything else. Tears are shed and alchohol consumed, both in copious amounts.
And out of all the various theories you readers have put forward about where this might go, not one person mentioned the most obvious threat. It's ME, remember? Never mind, reality will slink back in at the end of the chapter and make you squirm. You shouldn't be so complacent in the world of Peacewish.
(evil laughter)
Enough shameless self-promotion. May I at last present…
Chapter 12
'aftermath'
It was a city of contrasts, all right. Property prices were no higher in the entire Solarian system, and yet thanks to rent control and the inflexible bureaucracies that enforced it, most owners couldn't afford to keep up their own buildings. Boarded up and crumbling underneath a layer of graffiti, a row of empty and derelict housing units stared blankly down on them as they passed.
At least, Eric hoped they were empty. Maybe it was just because he'd been a target for assassination these past couple days, but to him the shadows seemed watchful, and just waiting for their chance to jump and grab. He'd always wondered how it was that this city had the highest murder rate in the system. Now he knew.
"Meilin? What are the chances of someone attacking us? Right now?"
"Pretty high," she speculated casually, "I should think. Gang territory, you know." He watched her glance from side to side with all the concern of a tourist in an art gallery, not even breathing hard and ignoring the blood that seeped through his impromptu bandage.
"Then can I ask why we're here?"
"Because the police won't be, trust me."
Was that supposed to make him feel better? "Did you have to throw your gun into the sewer?"
"Never leave a trail, never rely on the same gun more than once," she replied automatically, not once taking her eyes off the grim surroundings. "Besides, we're only cutting through. We can't walk to the train with a gun tucked into my waistband, not if we're going to make it out quietly."
"Didn't think you liked to do things quietly."
She didn't favor that with a response and he wondered if she was still mad at him. But, miraculously, at least nothing descended to attack them and they reached the end of the street without incident. When they turned the corner and saw the reassuring lights of a busier, more active street just a block away he was surprised. The bizarre zoning ordinances that checkered the city really did create peculiarities, leaving neighborhoods like this one to rot away just a stone's throw from thriving commercial districts. The sheer waste made his head hurt and some other time Eric would have happily lectured Meilin on the folly of it all, but right now he could only think of one thing.
"I know this street."
"What?"
"I didn't even know we were in this part of town, had no idea it was so close. Come on." Eagerly he tugged at her wrist but she held back.
"It's not a good idea, Senator, it's too well lit. It'll be too easy for them to spot us."
"Not where we're going," he assured her, blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I know exactly where we can hide out for a few hours, it's the last place they'll ever look. Trust me."
Not that he'd proven himself to be very reliable, but underneath her cool exterior Meilin was approaching exhaustion. Taking on the job of keeping him safe was turning out to be a task more difficult than she'd bargained for; she wasn't used to doing something like this on her own. The alternative was to retreat back into the ghetto and take their chances there, and her arm really was beginning to hurt. He must have sensed her indecision and pulled her forward, his determined grin melting the last of her resistance.
"It's Eric, you know."
"What?" she said again.
"As opposed to Senator. Only people in the office call me that and I hate that place. I definitely don't hate you, so would you mind?"
Now Meilin wasn't even looking where they walked, her attention oddly fixed on their linked hands. "Mind…?"
"Calling me Eric," he prompted patiently. "Especially in this place."
"What place?"
"This one." He halted and proudly indicated a scratched and weatherbeaten door, set below street level and at the bottom of several narrow concrete steps. "The Running Dog, to be more specific. Cheapest beer in town." Meilin could swear he smacked his lips.
"It's a bar."
"Well it's not a library."
"But we can't hide in a bar." She gripped his hand more firmly when he tried to step down, ignoring the responding flush of warmth in her skin. "There'll be people."
"It's how you run a business," he agreed.
"Someone will recognize you!"
"Meilin, no one is going to recognize me."
"How do you know?"
"Because," he said simply, "I come here all the time, and no one ever recognizes me." He winked and for a moment she lost track of her thoughts. "Not everyone in this city lives and breathes politics, you know." Again he pulled her forwad and led her, unresisting now, down the steps and reached for the door handle. "And relax, I always ditched the goon squad first. Had to do something to get away from it all."
And with that he ushered her into the sanctuary of The Running Dog.
Even compared to the fitful glow of the street lamps outside, the room was dim. Meilin tried to squint through the pale shroud of cigarette smoke and coughed. Next to her, Eric inhaled deeply and greedily.
"Ah… that smells good. Been too long since I was here last. Come on." Paying no attention to her doubtful expression, he herded her through the room.
"Hey, it's Eric!"
"Eric, good to see ya."
"Hey man, where ya been?"
The occupants of every table they passed looked up and greeted the blonde by name, accompanied with only a casual smile and a more appreciative glance for her. No one seemed disturbed that a senator reported dead that afternoon was strolling through their bar, with an arm around a girl and a carefree smile on his face.
"Nobody knows who you are?" she whispered, eyebrows arched in disbelief.
"You'd better believe it. These people are my kind of people: they don't give two siyong about government and they never will. Don't know what they'd think if they knew where I worked – probably throw me out." He chuckled as they approached the bar, and the man behind it flashed a welcoming grin.
"Eric, where the hell have you been? I've been overstocked for a week now!"
"My apologies, Tod, work has been murder. Thought I'd bring a friend along tonight to make up for it. This is Meilin."
The bartender's smile grew as his gaze traveled from Eric's face to hers. "Nice."
She stiffened, but Eric only squeezed her shoulders with a touch of possessiveness. "I think so too. Two of my usual, if you don't mind, and it's going on the tab tonight. Some water too. Are you hungry?"
Her gaze was wandering over the stained and littered bar when he addressed her, and when she tilted her chin up she looked a little taken aback to find his face so close. Was it his imagination, or did her cheeks turn slightly pink? He decided it must be the bad lighting.
"Um… is it safe?"
Tod laughed. "The bread's only a day old, I swear."
"Two sandwiches then," Eric declared, without waiting for her to decide. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved."
"Comin' up." His eyes were already fixed on the television suspended over the bar as he said this, but Eric only said his thanks and steered Meilin to a secluded booth.
"What'd I tell ya? Perfect place to hide, no windows, no sign on the door even. Only the regulars even know it's here."
"And the fact that you've got unlimited alcohol at your fingertips doesn't hurt."
"It's a bonus," he acknowledged. A tiny and resigned sigh escaped her lips, but she allowed him to seat her on worn cushions. The booth was a small and circular one and he lost no time sidling up next to her behind the round table, ostensibly to conceal her bleeding arm. "But the beer isn't really the reason I love this place. I just love coming here, period, sitting back with a drink and watching them."
Lazily he waved his hand to indicate the other patrons. "Most of 'em are here every night, you know. They work all day and they bring their paychecks here, spend them on beer and a game of pool, then they go home, sleep, and do it all again the next day. For life."
"That's terrible."
"No," he corrected, "it's great. Yeah, they're not trying to save the universe or anything but who cares? People like Pindexter and his friends are the ones trying to 'save' everyone all the time and look where that got us. These guys… well, they're just doing what they do. They earn their own money and spend it how they like, they don't bother anyone as long as no one bothers them. If everyone could be like that…" Eric's voice dropped in volume, becoming wistful. "Life would be better."
Tod plunked two whiskeys and a glass of water on the table, bespattering the already stained surface.
"Two of the usual and water. Gonna have to wait for the food, the Jets just started a new inning and they're down by five runs."
"Never fear, Tod, they'll make it through," Eric soothed. "They always do. And I will be your best friend for life if you could spare me a cig and a light. I haven't had a smoke in over a day."
The bartender's brow creased in appropriate sympathy. "Sure thing, man." He flicked a cigarette out of his pack with practiced ease and held up his lighter. "Rough day, I'm guessing."
"You have no idea." Eric closed his eyes and inhaled, feeling peace steal into him along with the heady smoke, and exhaled with a dreamy sigh. "God that feels good."
When he opened his eyes again Tod was gone, and Meilin was staring at the vice in his fingertips with a mixture of pity and condescension. She chose not to say anything, however, and instead looked at the two whiskeys.
"I don't drink alcohol."
"Mm, I figured. They're both for me." He chased the cigarette smoke with a soothing draught and felt his body begin to mellow under its warm caress.
"You're not going to get drunk," Meilin worried, "are you?"
"Meilin, Meilin," Eric chided, "of course I'm going to get drunk. People are trying to kill me when I didn't do anything wrong, and I can't even go to the police for help because they're the ones trying to kill me. And after I've paid them so much money in taxes, too! What a gyp." He took another swallow, a bigger one. "How can it not make you want to get drunk?"
She shrugged minutely and sipped her water. "I guess I'm used to it."
"Well, you shouldn't be. It's stupid. You shouldn't have to hide because of something you are – or what your family is, anyway. I shouldn't be on the run just because of what I believe."
Another spurt of righteous anger threatened, and Eric quickly doused it with another gulp of whiskey. It helped; he could feel his muscles relaxing and he settled himself against the back of his seat and took another drag on his cigarette.
"You know what D.C. stands for?"
She nodded. "De Colores."
"Know what it means?"
This time she shook her head.
"It's from one of the old native languages on this planet, means something like 'rainbow' or 'many colors'. It's supposed to represent diversity – different ways and thoughts and opinions, all existing in harmony." He snorted and finished off the first whiskey. "What a crock. There's nothing they hate more than diversity in this city. Nothing scares them more than someone who's really different. I should know. It's why I hate my job and why everyone there hates me."
He sucked moodily on his cigarette and blew the smoke out, considerately turning his face away from Meilin before he did so. He was only moping out loud and didn't really expect a response, or at the very least a suggestion that he get over it. But she surprised him.
"Then why do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Talk the way you do, and try to block all those bills. Why?"
It was a question that had never been asked of him before, at least not in such a direct, unassuming way. It was a question that he had never really asked of himself, even, and he stared dumbly into her expectant eyes. Why did he put himself through that misery, anyway?
"I dunno," was what he finally managed to come up with, still turning the question over in his mind. "I guess because… it's right."
It was a stupid answer but she gave no indication that she thought as much, her even gaze never flickering. Those dark eyes were disconcerting and Eric sought refuge in his second glass.
"Do you know what I think?" she finally said, breaking the rather uncomfortable silence.
"The machine thinks?"
"I think you drink, and throw yourself at women, and bury yourself in places like this just to hide the fact that deep down, you really care."
Eric plunked his glass on the table a little harder than was necessary. "Don't try to see me for something I'm not, Meilin."
"No, I think you do."
"I don't."
"You have to care!" she burst, making Eric jump and a few men in the room look up. The young politician was shocked to see the fierce desperation that swept over her face, the most he'd ever seen her display of any emotion. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that he didn't understand, and it made him quail to see it.
"Why?"
"Because," she answered helplessly. "Because it's you. You're the one who…" She trailed off and her eyes skittered away from his face, but not before he glimpsed something that looked like fear. Meilin did not show fear without good reason and now Eric's heart was beating a little faster, ignoring the calming whiskey he'd been imbibing.
"The one who what?"
She was suddenly fascinated with the contents of her water glass, and studiously avoided eye contact. "I'd given up," she finally said, quietly. "My cousin had been gone for weeks, chasing down some secret project, and I was alone. Every day the news was full of Pindexter and his upcoming bill, and I knew that I couldn't stop it. Nobody else in this city cared, nobody even questioned him. I was watching his interview on TV one night and I realized that that was it – he'd already won and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I wanted so much to do something for the family that raised me, I wanted to help them but I couldn't. For the first time, I decided to just give up."
Eric had forgotten the drink in his hand, and ash flaked off his ignored cigarette to sprinkle on the table.
"I had to get out of this city. I couldn't stay here any longer, I was sure I'd be sick. So the next day I went to the capitol and saw the statue one last time. To say goodbye to Justice. And then the Senate session began. It's broadcast through the whole building, you know, on speaker."
Actually, Eric hadn't known that. He was always in the main hall, after all, for every session.
"And there I stood, looking right at her face and listening to him, announcing the bill that would mean the death of every sorcerer's liberty. And then he finished, and I waited for everyone to vote it into law- and then... and then I heard you. Arguing with him, asking those questions, fighting him. I'd never heard anyone in the Senate talk like that. I'd never even heard your name before, didn't know who you were."
Not really surprising, considering his performance as a senator. He never sponsored any bills, sat on any committees, or even funneled any federal grants to his home planet. To the public's eye, he would be invisible.
"I had to see you. I ran through the corridors and up the stairs, all the way to the sightseer balcony and got there just before the vote. You raised your arm to vote against it, and just like that- you stopped it. All by yourself, with just that one simple motion, you stopped the bill that I didn't think anyone could stop. When I saw you do that… you became my hero."
With every word she spoke more softly, until Eric was almost resting his chin on her shoulder to hear.
"I think I fell in love with you."
All the oxygen fled his lungs and Eric gulped desperately for breath, dimly aware that his heart was hammering madly in his chest. No one had ever said those words to him, in spite of the many flings he'd enjoyed, and somehow from her they didn't seem to make him feel like he'd always worried they would make him feel… he was her hero?
Before he knew what he was doing he closed the distance between them and brought his lips to hers. Their first kiss had been nothing but an act, a diversion and a fleeting moment of lust. This time it was genuine and felt even better, felt softer, and he gently pushed to part her lips. Taken by surprise, Meilin fell willingly into the kiss and allowed him in. But when he shifted his posture for better access and encircled her in his arms she stiffened, and pulled away with an abruptness that left him gasping.
"I know…" Her voice wobbled a little and she cleared her throat. "About all the women you've slept with, here in D.C. I don't want to be one of them."
The girl that had risked everything to keep him alive, this girl that he owed so much?
"That could never happen," he promised, and leaned in again. Looking pained, she turned her head to avoid him and stared at her water glass again.
"Eric, please. You're drunk. If my cousin knew about this, words cannot express how quickly you'd die."
After two whiskeys Eric wasn't even close to drunk yet, merely buzzed, but he doubted if she could tell the difference. She didn't trust him, that was obvious. And if she really had been following him and reading up on his history, then he couldn't blame her.
Embarrassed, he retreated and finished off his drink. "Can't wait to meet this famous cousin," he muttered.
Meilin combed her hair back from her face, trying to regain her composure, and a shadow of worry flitted across her face. "I just hope he's all right."
Neither could find anything to say after that, and it was during a rather awkward silence that Tod finally brought their food and a refill for Eric. Glad to have something else to concentrate on, Eric devoured his stale and tasteless sandwich. She nibbled at hers, but it seemed she didn't have much of an appetite after all. He wondered if that was his fault too.
"So," he ventured when he'd swallowed the last of it, "where do we go from here?"
It was a safer topic than most and Meilin actually looked relieved to be discussing their deadly situation again.
"We can hide out here for another hour or so, that should be enough time for things to cool off. But quorum isn't for another seven days, correct?" He nodded. "We should clear out of the city then, it'll be safer. We have a safehouse, on the coast, really out of the way. My cousin likes to go there to think. Quiet; good place to hide." Eric thought it sounded a bit romantic, but he hadn't had so much to drink that he was stupid enough to say so.
"Sounds good to me," was all he said.
And that was that.
- - - - - -
Deaf to Tomoyo's pleas, Sakura curled up on her bed as if in torment and screamed her pain again, her mostly hidden face blotchy and scarlet from the tears.
"Sakura," she tried again, "please. Shh…"
"It hurts, it hurts!"
"I know. It always hurts to lose someone you love; I know that firsthand." She had to raise her voice just to hear herself over the great racking sobs, and dully wondered if her cousin was even listening. "But you'll only make yourself sick like this, you must calm down."
The unrelenting noise faltered and Sakura took a shuddering breath. Tomoyo's wan expression lifted in tentative relief, but Sakura only released another high-pitched wail and she drooped again, exhausted. Already she'd tried singing a lullaby, but it was impossible to even pick out the words over Sakura's piercing cries. Hugging had done no good either, Sakura only shriveled into a smaller ball with every touch, apparently determined to closet herself away from the 'verse and be alone with her pain.
That was still better, at least, than her reaction when Touya tried to touch her down in the cargo hold, after the bounty hunter's ship peeled off theirs at last and Li was gone. Even after the worst of her nightmares Tomoyo had never seen her so bad, shrieking hysterically and lashing out every time her brother even got close. Yukito was the one who finally scooped the stricken girl off the floor and carried her back to her bunk, Tomoyo close behind. But she hadn't missed the look on Touya's face. The betrayed hurt in his eyes as he followed Sakura with them made her cringe.
And still nothing would pacify her. In this tiny bunk her anguished sobs reverberated and had begun to fray Tomoyo's nerves; she'd run out of options. Sakura simply couldn't keep on like this.
Wearily she hauled herself out of Sakura's bunk and made her way to the back of the ship, ready to try a sleeping pill even if it was a long shot. Both men were in the galley when she entered, Touya seated at the table and glaring at his interlaced fingers, Yuki leaning against the fridge for once instead of browsing through it.
"She's still crying," Tomoyo announced, unnecessarily. In the thick quiet they could all hear Sakura's sobs quite clearly, but she still felt the need to say something before walking through that menacing silence. Having done so, she crept across the room to her medicine drawer, found the correct tablets, and turned to retreat from the galley without either of the room's other occupants uttering a word. She'd almost made it to the doorway when Touya's voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Tomoyo."
That was all, only her name, but the word fell cold and hard across her path, unyielding and impossible to disobey. Dry-mouthed, she turned to face him.
"What did he know?"
It was an accusation, pure and simple, that she was a part of this and an entirely justified one at that. Unwillingly she swallowed under his demanding stare.
"I'm sorry, Touya," she whispered. "It happened at Crossworlds… the police, they found us." She had to nerve herself to continue when she saw the expression on his face. "I tried to run but we just couldn't- they were going to take us both. Li saved us. I- I told him everything."
"You what!" Touya rocketed out of his chair and slapped his hands against the table, and she jumped.
"I had to."
"Did I not make it clear when you came that Sakura is on this ship to hide?"
"But he saw them try to arrest us," Tomoyo insisted, helplessly. "He knew. I didn't have a choice, and anyway he'd already guessed some of it. H-he was a government thief, he knew what Sakura was a part of. He even knew the name of the project. It's why he was wanted so much."
It was impossible to see what Touya was thinking. "Knew the name of the project," he echoed, and she nodded rapidly.
"Yes, he told me. He called it Clow."
Something in Yukito jumped, and he had to catch his breath, a little disoriented. The name meant nothing to him and yet… for just a heartbeat it was as if he'd recognized it. Like déjà vu.
The others didn't notice. "And you just believed him," Touya was saying bitterly. "Just trusted him?"
"Well, no. Not at first. But Sakura did, he was telling you the truth about that. She opened up to him, told him things. I saw it, they had some kind of strange connection. There was this thing with a teacup…" Tomoyo's voice trailed off when she saw the gathering storm in Touya's eyes and she swallowed again. She'd been lying to Li, she realized, she'd always been frightened of her cousin and his wrathful temper. She'd just never had to worry about becoming its target before.
But she couldn't forget what she'd seen, and lifted her chin in defiance. "I saw the way she looked at him, Touya. She loved him."
"No," he growled, "she didn't. She doesn't know how to love."
"Touya, that's not true. Don't you think she loves you or me?"
"She didn't even know him."
"But she did. I don't understand it, even he didn't understand it, but Sakura sees things differently than the rest of us. Somehow, she knew him and she was in love."
"Stop saying that!" he barked, and she flinched. "She can't even brush her own hair and you think she can fall in love with some stranger, some murderer? How could you sit back and watch her play pretend, not even tell me what was going on?"
Because you would have stopped it, she wanted to say but didn't dare. You would have stopped it, the one thing that made Sakura happy since we got her back and I could never do that.
It was the difference between them, she realized, in spite of how much they both loved Sakura. Tomoyo placed her faith in Sakura's judgement. Touya didn't think she had any.
"I'm sorry," was all she said. "It all sounds really strange when I try to explain it, but if you could have been there, if you just could have seen them when they -" She cut herself short but it was too late, and Touya stiffened.
"When they what, Tomoyo?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, and backed up when he took a step forward.
"Did he touch her, Tomoyo?" He kept walking toward her, like some kind of bizarre replay from earlier only this time she was the one backing away and unable to answer. "Did that son of a bitch touch my sister? Did he?"
Helplessly Tomoyo watched him advance, holding her breath unconsciously, only dimly aware of the burning pain in her chest. When Yukito put a hand on her shoulder she flinched again, having completely forgotten about him. But there was only sympathy and understanding in his kind brown eyes.
"I think," he said gently, "that's enough. Why don't you go on, Tomoyo? Sakura shouldn't be alone." His tall frame moved in between the two, subtly shielding her, and she wilted in relief. Before Touya could object she nodded and scurried away, almost at a run.
"We're not through!" Touya protested, but Yukito didn't blink, turning now to face his captain with an expression of grim purpose.
"No, we're not," he agreed, coldly. "We are just getting started."
"Get out of my way."
Yukito remained where he was. "How could you do it, Touya?"
"Throw a criminal and murderer off my ship?"
"He was more than that."
"Yeah, he was a sorcerer too. Who almost got Sakura killed tonight."
"He fought to save her life, he saved her at Crossworlds and Partine! We owe him everything and you made him leave."
"He's lucky I didn't put a bullet between his eyes," Touya snapped. "He was dangerous, Yuki, why can't anyone see that but me?"
"Because you're the only one too stubborn to see that not everything magical is a threat to your sister!" Yukito fired back, refusing to be intimidated. "He wasn't going to hurt her, Toya. Didn't you see the way he was looking at her?"
"Of course I saw the way he was looking at her!" he exploded. With a snarl he turned back and kicked the nearest chair, desperately seeking some kind of outlet. "I'd have to be blind to not see it and it made me want to kill him all the more. I would, too, before he could lay another finger on my sister."
Yukito watched the vengeful older brother pace, fuming, and shook his head. Why did he have to try so hard?
"Good job protecting her, Toya. Take a good listen." They'd quieted, but Sakura's wretched cries still echoed in the corridor. "You made that happen. She's miserable, and it's your fault."
"You too?" Touya asked bitterly, his tone scarred with betrayal. "Why is everyone on his side?"
"I'm not taking a side, I just -"
"I'm her older brother. I'm the one that's known her since she was a baby. I gave up everything to find her and keep her safe on this ship, did it all for her and now she's crying for him! She didn't even know him!"
Understanding hit Yukito and he blinked, forcing back a surge of disgust.
"So that's what this is about."
Even caught up in his fury Touya heard the difference and looked up. "What?"
"You're jealous. After everything you sacrificed for Sakura, she turned around and opened up to someone else. You hate it, don't you?"
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do, you just won't admit it. Is that why you threw him off the ship, Toya? Because he was making progress with Sakura when you couldn't, never mind that if you hadn't been so quick to reject your own magic you might have been able to do the same!"
"Stop it!" Touya shouted, on the verge of losing control. "You don't know anything!"
"No, Toya," Yuki corrected, his own anger barely in check, "I know you, better than anyone, and there is no room for anyone in your sister's life but you. You don't care about what she wants at all, nothing else matters as long as you're in control. You're no better than the ones that kidnapped her in the first place!"
Touya slammed him against the far wall of the corridor so hard it knocked all the wind right out of him, and he had to gasp for breath.
"Don't you ever say that."
The enraged hatred that choked his voice was enough to let Yukito know he'd pushed Touya too far. For the first time he wondered if he was strong enough to take a punch from his taller and dangerously angry boyfriend, and tensed when Touya clenched his fists.
Then he turned and stomped away, disappearing around the bend of the corridor faster than Yuki's mind could catch up.
- - - - - - -
When Tomoyo fled the galley, her one thought had been to get out of Touya's sight and stay that way for as long as possible. Thus distracted, she was almost to Sakura's bunk before she realized that her cousin's cries had indeed quieted. They still echoed down the corridor but the frantic screams had subsided. And upon entering the tiny room, she discovered why.
Sakura was still curled up in the same position Tomoyo had left her in, but now she clutched a wad of green cotton to her chest, hugging it close as if the shirt she'd sewn for Li in some way substituted for him. The sight made Tomoyo ache inside.
"Poor Sakura," she whispered, and laid a cool hand on the other girl's brow, brushing back stray wisps of her tangled hair. "You really did love him. If only your brother could understand that."
With Sakura quieter Tomoyo was fairly sure she could hear Touya and Yukito yelling at each other, and closed her eyes in despair. Everything was falling apart, and in some way she wondered if it wasn't her fault. If she had just told Touya right away what happened at Crossworlds…
Her gaze fell on Li's shirt again, and she remembered the look on Sakura's face when she gave it to him. No, she could never deny Sakura a moment like that. No matter what it cost.
"Sakura, would you like to take a little medicine to help you go to sleep? You need to rest."
Sakura buried her face in the shirt in response.
"Sakura, please don't do that, you'll suffocate. I won't make you take it if you don't want it." As gently as she could, Tomoyo tried to lever Sakura's hands away from her face so she could breathe. Sakura whimpered a complaint. "Shh… it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, you know th -"
Tomoyo broke off when she felt something hard and round under the material. "What's this?"
Sakura tried to curl her body protectively around her treasure, but Tomoyo unfolded a flap of cotton and discovered that his shirt wasn't the only thing she was hoarding. The round and polished amulet that Tomoyo now knew to be Li's sword lay nestled amongst the cloth. Had Sakura taken it from him, before Touya threw him off the ship?
"I don't think he's going to be very happy when he finds out this is gone," she remonstrated mildly, but she really didn't blame Sakura. She'd wanted Li but if she couldn't keep him then she would take whatever she could of his and keep that instead. Like a child, she didn't know any better.
"Get that away from her."
Tomoyo jumped and twisted around to see Touya in the doorway, his smoldering glare directed at the shirt in Sakura's arms.
"But Touya, it makes her feel better -"
"I said," he repeated, shifting his glare to Tomoyo, "get that away from her. Now."
"Okay," she said quickly, and bent far over Sakura to block his view. If he so much as guessed what the amulet in Sakura's hands really was, she didn't doubt he'd hurl it into outer space like he'd done for the bounty hunter's body. She would hide it for now, then give it back to Sakura later when Touya had a chance to cool off. "Sakura, sweetie, let go of the shirt."
As expected, she only clasped it more tightly to her chest. "Sakura, please." She could feel Touya's eyes burning into her back and knew if she couldn't pry it out of Sakura's hands then he would, and with a lot more force. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Sakura, just for a little while I promise. I'll keep it safe, okay? Just please let go."
Miraculously, Sakura's grip loosened and Tomoyo tugged the shirt free before she could change her mind, careful to keep Li's sword hidden within its folds. Sakura pressed her face against the sheets and shuddered with a fresh round of sobs, voice beginning to wear thin.
"Get out," Touya ordered, when the deed was done.
Tomoyo stood up but didn't move, reluctant to leave Sakura when she was still crying so pitifully. "Are you going to yell at her, too?"
"I don't believe that's any of your business. Get out."
There didn't seem to be any alternative but to obey; he was ship captain after all and she knew she was still in trouble. Eyes averted, she crawled out of the bunk and retreated into her own, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and forget this whole horrible night. The only other time she could remember being so miserable was a long time ago, a night when she was still just ten, and her best friend had disappeared.
- - - - - - -
When Tomoyo had vacated the bunk, Touya dropped down inside and pressed the panel that closed the door. He was still seething at Yukito's heated words and had to force himself to take a deep breath before he spoke.
"Sakura."
She cringed at the sound of his voice but otherwise didn't react, and didn't turn over to face him. That alone was enough to make his chest tighten painfully, and his eyes begin to burn again. Always before, ever since he'd rescued her, he'd been the one. The one who could reach her when even Tomoyo couldn't keep her calm, the only one who could brave her temper tantrums and hug her close, whisper words of love and protection and rock her to sleep on his lap. It was a status that he secretly cherished.
And now she wouldn't even look at him. Broken hearted, Touya sat gingerly on the edge of her bed and reached to touch, but without looking she only scooted farther away.
"I know you hate me right now," he admitted, wearily. "I know everyone does. But you don't understand how dangerous he was, how he could hurt you. I'm only looking out for you."
Again no response. The rational part of him, which he'd mostly ignored tonight, was saying he should leave her alone but he couldn't bring himself to obey it. Enduring that swordfight and knowing Sakura was right in the middle of it had been more terrifying than anything he'd ever faced, and it was that fear he'd acted on when he finally escaped his bunk and confronted Li.
Fear of losing her, in one way or another, when losing her the first time had nearly killed him. He couldn't go through it again, he didn't think he was strong enough. So even if she wouldn't look him in the eye, he could not make himself leave her side.
"I hate this," he whispered, more to himself than to her, and felt a pair of hot tears slide down his face before dripping onto his lap. "I'm so tired, Sakura. I just want you back."
Before he knew what he was doing, he fell over onto his side against the sheets. It was not a large bed but she was so little, and had pressed herself against the edge. He made no move to sit up again, but stared at the far wall while more tears leaked out.
Back to back, brother and sister lay in bed and cried for the loved one they had lost.
Like a greenhorn pilot after his first firefight, Yukito stumbled into the bunk corridor and took another ragged breath, willfully ignoring the dizziness that threatened. He couldn't take the thought of fainting right now, not without Touya there to catch him and hold him close. Touya whom he loved so much and Yuki couldn't believe the things he'd said to him, couldn't understand how it had come to this. He'd told his lover that he was no better than the people that took his sister away, and that wasn't true. But he'd just been so angry… Yukito had never been one to get angry like that. At least, he didn't think so.
"I'm sorry, love," he whispered to the empty hall. "I didn't mean it."
What would happen now? After a year of living on such a small ship, they'd suffered minor spats now and then. By tacit agreement each would retreat to the opposite ends of the ship for a cooling off period, talk it over, and resume their relationship all the better for it. But this was no minor spat and Yuki didn't know if he could ever look Touya in the eyes again, after the words they'd exchanged. Tomoyo was affected too, and then of course there was Sakura. The three of them were as close to a real family as he'd ever had and now their harmonious way of life had been splintered. They might never be able to go back.
Tomoyo's door was shut, as was Sakura's. A glance revealed the bigger bunk was empty, and if Yukito knew Touya at all then he was probably with Sakura in hers. Probably to leave the bed free for him, but Yukito couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in that big empty bed all alone. That had never happened once, since his arrival, no matter what they'd always at least been able to sleep together.
Yukito turned away from the vacant bunk and made his way to the cockpit. Here, surrounded by the stars and his beloved flying instruments, he felt marginally better and collapsed into the pilot's chair. Not very comfortable for sleeping, but then, he didn't think he'd be sleeping very much that night anyway.
"Just let it be okay," he whispered in prayer to the dazzling lights outside. "I love him so much. Whatever it takes, just let it work out."
- - - - - - -
Rino was standing at the bridge window, looking out at the stars, when a blaring alarm rang out from the instruments. Everyone jumped but him, and he turned around with a trace of irritation in his stoic features.
"What is that?" After being held up at Crossworlds for so long while the techs analyzed camera images and ship activity around the murder time, the aging commander was not in the best of moods and not looking forward to their return to D.C. They'd captured a photo of the elder Kinomoto as well, entering a saloon with another man that they had yet to identify, but that was all. Further lab analysis of the bodies yielded no more information about their attacker, and he still had no leads on their transportation. As things stood, the entire episode didn't seem to be anything more than a waste of time.
The young ensign manning the scanning instruments looked panicky, and fumbled for a few switches before the noise was mercifully switched off.
"I-I'm sorry, sir, I don't know where that came from. I was only running a routine echolocation, there shouldn't have been a signal that loud."
He fidgeted nervously in his seat, but Rino was more intrigued now than annoyed. Keeping his hands behind his back, he paced a few steps from the window.
"What do you mean, a signal? Like an S.O.S.?"
"No sir, not exactly." Expertly his fingers skimmed over the keys and he frowned at his console. "It's a tracking signal, or more accurately a homing beacon. I just happened to stumble onto the right wavelength when I was scanning; it must be a real top of the line instrument to carry so well. The ship isn't even on radar."
Rino was a field agent who never bothered with computers more than he could help it, and frowned as he tried to follow the other's meaning. "This homing beacon, it's not one of ours, is it?"
"Absolutely not, sir, the ship's computer would seek it out automatically. As I said, this was purely accidental."
"And what would you say is the probable source of this beacon?"
The bridge had grown steadily quieter as they spoke and now everyone had their attention turned on the young crew member, who looked a little uncertain about this lengthy exchange.
"Well sir, I can't see that any captain would allow one of his own accord. Perhaps a smuggling boss is keeping tabs on his cargo runners. Or it could even be a bounty hunter's."
Rino didn't reply as he turned to face another man. "This ship isn't on radar?"
"Er, no sir. Not at the frequency currently set."
"Then adjust it."
"Yes sir." Again fingers tapped on buttons, and the scope on the screen flickered and expanded. There: in the bottom left corner a small dot cruised steadily through space, at a speed typical for nocturnal autopilot. "Most likely headed to the Little Heavens spaceport, they probably crossed our path a few hours ago."
Rino stared at the moving dot and spoke before he came to a decision. "Follow it."
"Sir?" the pilot queried doubtfully.
"If it's a ship that a bounty hunter is after, then it's probably a ship we're interested in too, don't you think?"
The pilot looked as baffled as everyone else on the bridge, but he nodded. "Yes sir. Adjusting course now, sir."
"Can anyone tell me what that ship is?"
"Just a moment, sir." The man at the radar tapped and clicked, then furrowed his brow in surprise. "It's a class A-252 freighter. What a heap; I didn't think they even made those anymore."
"So it's rare then."
"Practically extinct."
"So if that classification surfaced elsewhere recently, it would most likely be the same ship?"
"I suppose so, sir. The odds are pretty stacked against two in the same area."
"Somebody cross-index that with the list from Crossworlds."
This time everybody bent over their computers, the clicking of keys a steady whir in the bridge. It was the ensign that looked up first.
"I've got it, sir. An A-252 freighter docked from 10:10 to 13:30 that day, Crossworlds time, without loading or unloading any cargo. It's registered as the Wildflower."
For the first time in years, adrenaline pumped into Rino's blood, a reminder of that long-forgotten thrill of the chase.
"Pilot."
"Sir?"
"Overtake it."
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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters