~~~So, after thinking for quite a while, I decided to try and finish this fic. If I were good, I'd have gone and cut ch 17-19 and done them over ( I originally wanted to rewrite from ch 11 onwards) but I'm totally lazy. So instead, I just changed the end of ch 19 so it matches a little better with what comes after. Right-o, here you go -- after long hiatus, A Shift in the Wind (resurrected) ch 20. enjoy. Or don't. it's up to you.~~~

Tsukushi tossed and turned restlessly. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't seem to get to sleep. Why did it always seem that when she felt her worst, a time when sleep would surely do her spirit good, that unconsciousness seemed impossible to attain? Just another of the little ways that life found to torture her. Tsukushi sighed, if she hadn't been such an optimistic person at heart, she would have seen it as another sign that she was utterly, utterly cursed.

It was no use trying to sleep like this. Tsukushi rolled out of bed, wincing at the chill of the floors. What was it with these rustic retreats and the lack of carpeting? She wished she had her slippers with her. Suppressing a shiver at each new patch of cold floor, Tsukushi crept down the long hallway to the kitchen, intending to try to lull her unhappiness with a midnight snack. Surely there had to be something soothing, something chocolate perhaps, lurking in the cupboards?

Tsukushi groped for the light-switch, shielding her eyes from the sudden glare as she did so. The ensuing groan from the general direction of the kitchen table almost made her jump about a foot in the air. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her vision to the ambient light.

". . . Doumyouji?" She asked hesitantly, belatedly recognizing the voice, if not the figure slumped at the table. "What are you doing up? You should be sleeping! Conserving your strength!"

"What's the point?" Tsukasa dragged his head off the table, and peered at Tsukushi with bloodshot eyes. He'd been sitting in the kitchen, for hours, ever since he'd sent Shigeru off to bed. That girl had talked endlessly, it seemed, each word she spoke, each reminiscence about their short-lived engagement making him feel worse and worse. He was an asshole and a jerk. It was no wonder someone had hated him enough to try to kill him. He'd treated Shigeru-- who sounded like a perfectly decent and very sweet girl at heart, like shit. And from what she'd said, it had sounded like he'd treated Tsukushi and even Sakurako even worse, yet all seemed to like him. To love him if anything was to be believed. It made him miserable. He couldn't remember any of it, couldn't remember a single worthwhile thing he'd ever done. Only pain and hurt and fury. At last, he hadn't been able to take any more of Shigeru's sympathy and kindness, she was too good a listener, and he had nothing to say. Nothing that he wished to articulate, at any rate. And then, when she'd gone, he'd realized, belatedly, that his wound had started to ooze again. The stitches sliding and pulling apart, the damaged vessels seeping, weeping red. It seemed a race, as to which would kill him first, despair or this stupid hole in his side. It had been pointless to get up and get help, pointless to waste his time in sleep. Instead. Tsukasa chose to lurk, alone, in the kitchen, trying for more memories-- trying to learn as much as possible while he still could.

"Are you ok?" Tsukushi finally realized just how bad Tsukasa looked -- a sickly pallor made his normally vibrant features look fragile and old, and his grim expression with mouth tightly drawn into a frown, cheeks sunken and wasted, certainly didn't help the overall impression any.

"What do you think? Do I look ok to you?" Tsukasa glared weakly at the girl standing in the doorway.

"No. . ." Tsukushi admitted sadly, "I'm sorry."

"What the hell for?"

"For disturbing you." Tsukushi looked away, refusing to meet Tsukasa's eyes. There had once been a time when she would have snapped right back at him, yelling at him for his disgraceful self pity. But not now. Not tonight, when she had, herself, fallen prey to that very same self-pitying melancholy.

"Sit down." Tsukasa demanded suddenly, even as Tsukushi stared inching towards the door. "Keep me awake."

"Huh?" Tsukushi did a double-take, but obediently sat down cautiously at the table.

Tsukasa close his eyes and rested his head in his hands, "They won't admit it, But I'm dying, aren't I? They couldn't do anything for me in the hospital. . . It's been weeks since this" he gesticulated weakly in the general direction of his wound. "And it still has hardly closed at all. They tell me it will -- but I'm not stupid, you know. Wounds heal in a few days. If it isn't healed by now, something's wrong. I'm going to die. . . " He trailed off as Tsukushi stared at him, shock and denial shining in her widened eyes.

"No! what did I tell you already!" Tsukushi urged vehemently, "You can't just sit there so passively! You can't die! Doumyouji, you have to fight for your survival! How can you say it so calmly! You can't just die. . . . I won't let you."

"What's the point?" Tsukasa mustered himself enough to snarl fiercely at Tsukushi, "What do I have to live for? I've been sitting here all night, trying to figure that out. My parents didn't even come to see me, not once! My friends sneak on tiptoe around while my back is turned, whispering, fighting. My best friend picks petty fights with me over a girl I don't even remember. And that girl. . ." Here Tsukasa's suddenly steely eyes seemed to pierce Tsukushi, gluing her to her chair, "Who claims," he segued into spiteful sarcasm, as if to hide true hurt in his tone "to love me, to have been my girlfriend, was off fucking my best friend after a mere three weeks. That's constancy for you. So much for Love. So what's the point of remembering That?"

Tsukushi face crumpled as each word hammered into her soul, pounding the nails of guilt deeper and deeper, until she felt she could stand it no more. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She cried, even as she broke down into incoherent sobs.

Tsukasa watched for a while, trying to remain impassive, but having a hard time in the face of such misery. At last his stony expression softened slightly, "Makino. . ." He began, reaching out across the table as if to pat her hand. (hands which weren't even in range, being far too busy, as they were, wiping tears from Tsukushi's cheeks.)

"No. . .I know. " Tsukushi regained her composure enough to speak through the lump in her throat, "It's my fault, and you have every right to hate me. Even if you don't remember me. . .but still, Doumyouji. I won't let you die. Don't you have anything you want to live for? Don't you remember ever being happy?"

"No." Tsukasa didn't even have to think long to answer that one. His whole childhood -- lonely, alone, angry. . . Nothing much had moved him from his restless irritability, certainly nothing had made him happy. And despite the few tantalizing glimpses of his recent past that he'd endured this evening, there was still no recollection of happiness, only more misery. And whatever elusive event or events that had caused him to change, to lose his overwhelming rage, still kept slipping through his fingers, dancing tantalizingly close to the edges of his memory, but always, still, just out of reach.

Tsukushi gazed at him, sadness in her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" Tsukasa didn't want anyone's pity. So, to distract her, he asked the first thing that came to mind. "What about you? When have you been happy?" He certainly couldn't remember her looking happy at any time after he met her in the hospital after waking from his coma.

"Well. Umm… that is." Tsukushi stammered, uncomfortable at having the focus shifted back on her.

"Well?!" Tsukasa demanded impatiently.

"Err. . . I was happy," Tsukushi replied slowly, "Before I started at Eitoku. And, I guess. . . . Afterwards, there were moments. . . ." She tried to smile. It was a halfhearted attempt, however, and her lips soon drooped back into their prior frown.

"You don't look very certain about that." Doumyouji growled, "For someone who claims to have been my girlfriend, you'd think you'd be thrilled by the prestige of dating me. Why aren't you happy about it?"

"You can ask that?" Tsukushi cried despairingly, "It wasn't easy, you know! It was hardly ever fun! Learning to love you -- Loving you-- was the most difficult thing I've ever done! Happiness hardly ever entered into it! . . . And now. . . Now it's all gone. All for nothing. And you just want to give up and die. . . . "

Tsukasa opened his mouth, as if about to utter another sharp retort. But before the sounds could form, a wave of dizziness overtook him. A sharp pain behind his eyes suddenly burst forth into white light, blinding glare, and a jumbled impression of images, sensations, conversations; a montage too rapid and discontinuous to be fully recognized, much less absorbed.

Watching the sunset from a balcony, his chin on her shoulder, his arms around her waist; A shivering body in the snow; watching the stars; watching her sleep; cookies with his face on them-- too precious to be eaten; darkness and the sensation of soft lips yielding beneath his in the instant before the lights went up.

All this and more, all too fleeting, all gone in an instant, leaving him empty and confused. The only thing he was sure of was that She was there. He wasn't even sure if any of those scenes contained a memory of happiness. He wished he knew.

And even if they did. Would that be enough to give him something to fight for-- Memories of happiness, with a woman who admitted of a betrayal too recent to be forgiven?

Tsukasa cradled his aching head in his hands and tried to sort out his muddled thoughts.

"Are you all right?" Tsukushi peered closer, seeing the sudden spasm of pain cross his face. "Is it. .. you know?" She gestured helplessly at his side.

"I'm . . .ok. .. " Tsukasa managed to gasp after a while. But now, Tsukushi's close proximity seemed to remind him of something, something that had been nagging at the back of his subconscious, "I think. .. I need to try something." He murmured half to himself.

This was all the warning Tsukushi got before Tsukasa leaned forward suddenly, and captured Tsukushi's lips in tender kiss.

Yes.

This was more like it.

Tsukasa had thought many people had had what he was looking for. First, Umi, with her oh-so-familiar seeming bento full of commoner's food, then Sakurako, with that fire and spirit, and wounded center; giving him a jolt of recognition as she'd stood in his doorway lecturing him. He'd kissed her, thinking that she was what he wanted, that his desire for her was based on her attributes. And, he had to admit, the kiss he'd stolen from her had been passionate, sensual, had made his body tingle from his lips down to the very tips of his toes. But, what it hadn't been was familiar.

This kiss, though -- He knew this kiss. Knew it on some level deeper than memory. The hesitant mouth beneath his, the trembling, frightened lips, still frozen with surprise and shock at the sudden attack.

Yes. This was familiar.

Tsukasa almost smiled in satisfaction as he withdrew. He may not have all his memories, but this, this sense of learning something new, learning to love even, all over again. Maybe that would make it all worthwhile. Maybe that would give him the strength he needed to survive.

But first. "Why must you always cry?" The sharp words slipped out involuntarily, as Tsukasa noticed the large drops sliding down Tsukushi's cheeks. He didn't remember her crying, didn't know how he knew, but still, somehow, the tears were every bit as familiar as the kiss. . . .

Tsukushi didn't even notice the incongruity. She merely sniffled, and climbed shakily to her feet, her vision still blurred by tears. She tried and tried, but somehow she couldn't seem to stifle the flow. Not this time.

"Why do you have to torture me so? I know you don't mean it, not like you used to. So why did you do that? Was it to mock me? Some form of punishment? I don't need that from you! Don't tease me like that! Don't!. . . I can't take it. . ." trailing off into incoherence, Tsukushi stumbled from the room, her feet leading her blindly out into the chilly night.

"Makino! Wait!" Doumyouji called out futilely, even as Tsukushi vanished from his view. Without her presence the room suddenly felt dimmer, colder, a whole hell of a lot lonelier. ". . .I didn't mean it like that. . ."

Only the empty room heard his quiet plea, "I don't want to be alone anymore. . ."

That's all he had ever wanted.

To be continued.