.. These dreams.

you didn't think - catastrophe pt. 2 - drought

"This is insane. I know it's medicinal, I know it's tradition, but he needs the modern machinery -- " "This is insane. I know it's medicinal, I know it's , but he needs the modern -- "

"Hush," Yelan snapped suddenly. It was the most emotion Meiling had seen from her aunt since the spar began. It both frightened and angered her.

She was quiet for only a moment.

"Tradition. Tradition, tradition," Meiling averted her gaze as one of the designated nurses of the Empire laid their hands over Syaoran's now bare chest. Her own fingers clenched against her breast, and she could feel the beating of her anxious heart vibrating through her bones, deep into the marrow, down to the nerves of her skin. Thump thump --

"It is deeper than we suspected," The nurse, Xianan, said slowly. "Han was very precise. He was aiming for Xiaolang's left kidney."

"Syaoran was too quick," Meiling said, red gaze returning to the stilled warrior. "But not quick enough."

"No, not quick enough," Xianan echoed.

"That sword--" Meiling slammed her palm against a tray of ginger root and cinnamon. "It was too heavy. These traditions -- they'll kill him!"

Suddenly, Honorable Grandfather burst into the room.

"Is he dying?" He asked hurriedly. Sweat gathered on the line of distress in his brow.

"No---" Yelan murmured.

"Just as well. Make sure he doesn't." And as soon as he'd entered, Honorable Grandfather was gone. Meiling gaped.

Yelan moved silently to her son's side. His breathing was shallow, erratic; she laid a finger to his red lips, and they parted only slightly as he took in one deep inhale.

Yelan's eyes drifted close -- slowly -- as Xianan fluttered carefully over Syaoran's stilled body.

What kind of life have I offered you?

... I dreamt of Japan.

I dreamt of her.

.. kura.

Sakura.

Was it summer? The heat was astounding. Syaoran lifted his palms to his forehead, head swimming, dizzy; he felt blinded. As his vision cleared, the bright supernova sun lessening from intense white to a soft brightness, he saw her standing there off against the distance of ages. Her back was against a tall blooming cherry tree.

She smiled gently.

"I was waiting for you," Sakura said, soft as the touch of silk, "I've been waiting for a while."

"... I'm sorry," he said, taking a step toward her.

"I suppose I mean to say I will be waiting--" Sakura let her chin fall as he neared.

"I know," Syaoran said, a little unsure -- "I still have things .. to do. In China."

She lifted her eyes.

The sun began to set, night rolling in with precision: a full moon replaced the blaze of a July sun. The sakura tree's cherry blooms looked purple in the moonlight. Her eyes were murky.

She quietly lifted her fingers to his chin; her touch surprised him, and even more so, he found himself leaning in to her. The walls they'd erected to contain the reservoir of feeling -- of feeling and of feeling alone -- slowly split, and he crushed himself against her with all the intensity of a boy who'd been separated from a girl for far too long. The boy and the girl, always.

He found her intensely warm.

Her palms flattened against his back; she sighed, pressed him closer. The quiet stillness of their love was overpowering, reassuring. She felt like a star in his arms. He breathed her in, took her in to him, letting her fill his senses, his lungs; Sakura, bringing oxygen in to his blood.

The moon began to wane. The air grew thicker.

"I won't hate you," she said suddenly.

And then her body collapsed in to a flurry of sakura petals.

He awoke four days later with the feeling that he'd been crushed between two very large concrete slabs; his ribs were sore, and his mind hurt. His head hurt.

When his eyes opened, he found Meiling glaring intently at him, her eyes crossing with concentration.

Syaoran's mouth grew slack.

"... Not pleasant," he murmured. Was that really his voice?

"No? Try convincing all of the Li Empire that modern technology is, well, modern and that it works better than some root-soil potion," Meiling grinned sheepishly and leaned back from him. She lifted a hand to his bed and patted the comforter. "The nurse finally listened to me. And behold," she paused, letting her fingers flutter dramatically in the air, "you live."

"I wouldn't call this living," Syaoran groaned, gripping his stomach and he made a poor attempt to sit up. He managed, if only to have Meiling slowly lean forward and press him back down.

"Ah-ah," She said, "doctor's orders. You can't move. That pompous Han idiot caught a muscle right here --" Meiling poked against his side, and he chortled out a yelp, " .. And it needs to heal a little."

Syaoran's brow furrowed and his eyes shut tightly.

Han.

Mean eyes, big sword. Brings back memories.

".. What has Grandfather said?" Syaoran murmured, eyes opening to catch Meiling's gaze dart from his.

Her hand lowered back to the bed, where he saw her knuckles grow white. "Who cares," she said quietly.

Syaoran hand fell against hers; she caught his look, finally, and grunted annoyedly. "We needed you to beat Han. .. The Empire needed Han as a subordinate ally. And now," she shook her head, "Now it's either we're that ally for them or --"

"Grandfather won't allow the Empire to be second-best to anything," Syaoran ground out to himself, "to anyone. All or nothing."

Meiling laughed uncertainly, "Not quite."

"What?"

"He decided on a partnership."

"... What?"

"Grandfather decided that we'll go into a partnership. The Han line was accepting."

Syaoran drew himself forward -- and when she tried to push him down, he grabbed her hand; Meiling looked up, ashamed. She smiled weakly.

"A partnership," Syaoran said. "A partnership."

".. A marriage," she whispered.

"You're not serious, Meiling."

She ruffled.

"You knew what would happen if we didn't win! If we didn't establish some sort of superiority! This is my chance to do something for this damned Clan. All I've done this far is be a woman."

"I'll fight him again," he said simply.

"You'll be cut down again," she hissed, "Or killed."

He clicked his tongue, hair moving like a lion's mane as he quickly looked aside. "You can't marry him."

"Actually, it's pretty simple. Simple ceremony. Both sides just want the union, so it will be painl--"

"Shut up," Syaoran snapped, "You're not marrying him."

"Why not?" Meiling cried out, equally upset. "There a better offer?"

He lifted his eyes; the grip that had remained against her arm loosened gently. His fingers fell back against the cotton bedspread.

She stood quickly, turned, and stormed toward the door.

But she stopped just as her hand reached to the doorknob.

"You know what else is 'not pleasant'?" She asked coolly.

"Being called the name of someone you'll always love more than me."

And the door slammed.