Title: "You Almost Died"

Author: Wish Wielder

Fandom: Puchi Puri Yucie

Pairing / Character Focus: Arc x Yucie

Challenge: 33 Proposals

Theme / Prompt: #27 (Scared; scarred)

Word Count: 2,649

Rating: T / PG-13

Summary: It isn't the first time she's had nightmares, and it isn't the first time they've dealt with the what if? of his death.

Notes: Post-series. Spoilers for ep23-26.

Disclaimer: "Puchi Puri Yucie" and all respective properties are © Takami Akai. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Puchi Puri Yucie".

"You Almost Died"

Her breath hitches in her throat as she sees the root shooting towards her. Her mind screams at her to run, but the command doesn't seem to reach her legs. She's frozen, watching terrified as her death approaches. She knows it now: she won't survive this battle. She won't get to see the Fairy World returned to its former beauty. She won't get to see Beth truly happy again. She won't get to know what it's like to be a proper adult. She won't get to thank Arc for that day so long ago. She won't get to thank Arc for coming to help today.

She won't get to see Arc ever again.

She wants to close her eyes, to block out the scene unraveling before her. She knows she'll die, but she doesn't want to accept it. She doesn't want to see it happen. She doesn't want to see Diabolos win. She can't, though - her eyes, just like her legs and the arms that won't even move to block the root, are frozen. She can't turn away or block it out - it's coming, and all she can do is watch.

Her breath finally comes, rushing from her in a gasp as something snakes about her middle, jerking her away from the root that's suddenly split in two. Her eyes sting as they widen even more, and she wants to scream as she sees the familiar brown cloak fanning around her. The arm releases her and she stumbles away, turning to see Arc standing behind her. He watches her, looking her over with an unreadable expression - is he concerned, angry? She can't tell, and it scares her.

"Arc, you.." she whispers, her voice nearly impossible to work. He gives her a smile, a quiet gesture of encouragement, but she sees him wince and grab for his shoulder.

"Are you ok?!" she asks, stepping towards him. He glances back at her, and for a moment he's completely unguarded. She can read him like a book, and that scares her, too. He's hurt, but he'll lie - he doesn't want her worrying about him. He doesn't want her distracted.

That, she can't help but think, is selfish on his part - and if he wasn't already hurt, she'd probably hit him.

"It's...just a scratch," he tells her, and she frowns. He's lying - doesn't he know it? Can't he feel the rot spreading from his arm and taking over his body? Can't he feel it killing him?

Wait...killing him?

Her eyes shoot open as he vanishes, and before she can fully realize what's happened she's screaming for him, fighting against the Queen as she tries to get to his side. She can't see him, but she sees the violet-tinged gas hovering over the crowd of physicians and magicians; she hears the tortured screams tearing through him. She knows he's dying even before the man approaches the Queen. She knows he will die if she fails to become the Platina Princess.

It takes a split second, but already she knows that she will and exactly what her wish will be. If he lives, she doesn't have to be an adult. If he lives, she'll be happy as a child - if he lives. If he lives.

But the scene changes again, and suddenly she's in that pink dress, the Eternal Tiara sparkling on her brow. She's walking into the room, but it's not right - it's not how it was, how it should be. She remembers everything, and Frederik was there before - Frederik and that maid and the doctor.

It's empty and dark, cold - and she knows. She's too late. She wouldn't accept the Tiara, and when it was forced on her...she wasted her time. Arc died while she was in the Magical World, and it's all her fault.

NO.

This isn't how it should be. She makes it - she loses her friends, but she saves him - and then they get the others back. It's already played out, and this wasn't how it happened. Arc didn't die. Arc didn't die. Arc didn't...

"...die!"

She blinks, her eyes wide and terrified as she looks around her room. Same four walls. A midnight sky outside her window, the moon glinting mysteriously over the mountains. She kicks off the covers and throws her legs over the side, gasping at the shock of cold that hits her in the air and the floor. She stumbles to the window and looks out, scanning the snowy landscape for any sign of change. It's the same as it was just hours ago, when she had gone to bed. She looks down at herself, frowning at the eighteen-year-old body that greets her. Same her.

It was just a dream, but she can't shake the tingle of dread creeping down her spine. She spots the Wind Clow Handkerchief on her desk, and though she knows it's reckless she finds herself moving to her wardrobe. It's not that late, she tells herself. No one will ever even know.

I just have to make sure.

And so she finds herself out in the night air, a thick brown cloak wrapped tightly around her as the Hankie takes her towards the city. She shivers against the wind, whipping even more furiously against her in her flight, but it won't deter her. She has to know. She has to be sure.

She's surprised to find him on the balcony when she arrives, but he's not surprised to see her. It isn't the first time she's had nightmares, and it isn't the first time they've dealt with the what if? of his death. The Hankie hovers by the rail, and she fidgets as he watches her. She can't look at him, though that's the only reason she even came in the first place. She tries to think of an excuse, but his arms are already around her and holding her close, and she knows she doesn't need one. He understands, and maybe he's seen it, too - if he hadn't reached her in time, if it had been her with the parasitic wound.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, but he shakes his head. His hair tickles her nose, but she's too shaken to laugh; she still sees him in her mind, lying on that bed - screaming and dead, a horrifying mix of the two burned behind her eyes and in her ears.

"Inside," he says, and her eyes close as the familiarity of his voice covers her like a comforting blanket. "You're freezing, Forehead."

"I'm sorry," she whispers again, but still he just shakes his head - there's nothing to apologize for, and he wants her to know it. He pauses, just long enough for the Hankie to shrink and fall into his waiting hand, before he takes her back into his room. There fire's already blazing, and she wonders if he somehow knew she was coming. Or maybe it had been one of those nights for him, too. Maybe he needed her just as much as she needed him.

He sets her on a chair, but she clings to his arms as he moves away. He stops and smiles, but she can't return the gesture. He presses his lips to her forehead, the kiss devoid of its usual mirth and instead just full of love and peace, and this time she lets go. He's back within moments, a thick blue blanket in his arms. He nudges her, and she scoots over; he's already draped the blanket over her shoulders before he takes a seat. He hasn't even settled back before she's curled against him, her face buried in his chest. She feels his arms wrap around her, and finally she can't take it anymore - she sobs against him, releasing the fear and confusion and hurt that's lingered as a backwards shadow ever since the Final Scene.

She doesn't know what she's crying for; everything is fine and as it should be. She doesn't know why she can't let go of everything that's happened, of everything that almost happened and everything that didn't happen. She doesn't know why she can't just move on and embrace life completely as it is now. The others have, and for the most part so has she.

But then she'll get comfortable, and the nightmares will return. Arc dead. The Fairy World destroyed. Her friends erased from existence. The Great Magician and her red eyes, glaring at her as she forces her to choose. Magazerent and her blue eyes, crying for her as she tells her her friends will never return.

"It's ok," he whispers into her ear, and a chill races down her spine as she feels his hand rub up and down her back. But it's not, she wants to say, but only sobs come out. Gasped breaths and clawing panic, and she doesn't know why he can't understand - why can't any of them understand? They all almost died - because of her.

"Why don't you hate me?" she asks, and for a moment she doesn't realize she has said it aloud. But his arms tense around her, and she curls in on herself as his hands fist in her tunic. She expects him to push her away, to send her home without another word - but he doesn't. The rational part of her mind, so drowned out by the guilt and the tears, whispers that he never could.

"Yucie," he says, but she just shrinks smaller. He puts a hand under her chin, trying to pull her head up. She won't let him; again she finds she can't look at him. She knows what she'll see - sorrow and concern and comfort - and she knows she doesn't deserve it. She knows she can't face it. "Yucie."

"No," she gasps, shaking her head against his chest.

"Look at me," he says, quietly - a silent plea that sounds so strong yet nearly broken in her ears. And she acquiesces, though she still refuses to look at him as he lifts her head. "Yucie..."

She frowns at the exasperated sigh, and she glances up at him. He sighs again and pulls her close, burying his head against her neck as he crushes her to him. Her hands fist against his shirt, that familiar chill making her shiver as he presses his lips to her skin.

"I could never hate you, Yucie," he says, his voice muffled.

"You should," she says, and he bumps his head against hers.

"Don't be a fool," he says, and she bites her lip against the smile. She wants to believe him, but again she closes her eyes and sees him lying there, caught by something not even the Tiara could save him from, and she can't.

"I killed you," she says rather forcibly, and she feels him push her back. But before she can think that he's finally come to his senses, he again turns her head to him, brushing his hand against her cheek.

"You saved me," he says, and when she goes to argue he kisses her, stealing her breath and logic in one fell swoop. He pulls back and rubs his thumb under her eye, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop falling. "You saved all of us."

"But you could all have died just as easily," she says, shaking her head. He smiles at her, and she frowns. "It's true, Arc - don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?" he asks, his smile curling into a smirk. She looks down, her frown turning into a pout. Why is he always so difficult?

"Like I'm crazy for even thinking it," she mutters, and she glances at him as he kisses her cheek.

"You are crazy, Forehead," he says, and she feels her eyebrows raise at him. He chuckles and pulls her to him again, holding her close as he settles back in the chair. "But not for this. After everything that happened, it's not surprising you still have nightmares. But that's all they are, Yucie - nightmares. You made it back in time, I didn't die, you got the others back - you even gave the Great Magician a little bit of peace. So see? It all worked out in the end. You don't have to torture yourself with thoughts of how it could be different because it's not different."

"I was so scared, Arc," she whispers, as if that answers everything. He nods, and she closes her eyes as the gentle b-bump-b-bump of his heart washes over her. She feels him press his lips against her hair, and nuzzles her head closer to him.

"You don't have to be - not anymore," he says. "We're all ok now."

"I'm sorry I just showed up like this," she mumbles, and she can feel sleep clouding her thoughts. Her terror of earlier is nearly forgotten in this little cocoon, so safe and warm wrapped up with him like this.

"When are you going to realize that you have nothing to be sorry for?" he asks with a sigh, and she can almost hear the smile in his voice. She gives a sleepy shrug, and a quiet laugh fills her ears. "Still, can't wait for a few months from now. These nightmares of yours will be a lot easier when you don't have to sneak out in the middle of the night to come see me. Gunberd's going to be upset, you know."

"Why a few months?" she asks, frowning as she fails to realize the implications of what he has said. She doesn't want to think about her father, not now; she knows he'll know where she is and why. It isn't the first time she's had the nightmares.

"Well, we'll be married by then," he says, and her eyes snap open. She lifts her head and looks at him, her jaw loose, and he grins at her. He looks too sneaky, too sly for her liking. "Won't we?"

"I...you...we...bwuh?" she asks, and he laughs as he leans up, kissing her forehead. It's back to the mocking, and a part of her warms at the familiarity. Somehow, he's made it better - just like he always does.

"You look like a lobster, Forehead," he grins, and she puffs out her cheeks in a pout. He laughs and pokes her stomach, and she turns her head away as his eyes glance up at her. "You are marrying me, aren't you, Forehead?"

She doesn't answer, but they both already know what she'd say. She glances back at him as his hand sneaks along her waist and around her back, and she turns and plops down on his lap again. She cuddles into his side and smiles as his arms wrap the blanket around her, locking in the warmth against the chill that has slipped past the fading fire.

"Maybe," she says, and she glances up at him. "Are you finally asking?"

"Maybe," he replies, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She laughs and slaps his arm, and he grins and gives her a squeeze. "Fine, yes. Yes, I am asking. Will you marry me, Forehead?"

"Shut up, Arc," she mumbles, laying her head back against his chest as her eyes droop closed. He nudges her, but the sleep has already claimed her as its own. He smiles and shakes his head, again kissing her forehead before settling back into the chair. It's not the first night they've ended up like this, and he can only smile as he knows it won't be the last.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," he whispers to her, and his smile warms as he sees her lips curl in a grin. He brushes some hair behind her ear and settles for watching her sleep, comforted by her just being there. 'I'll definitely take that as a yes.'

A.n.: ...oh man, curse Time Lord biology. I'm writing out the line about Arc's heart and I almost put 'the gentle b-bump-b-b-bump of his hearts'. Dx Apologies for this being so late - I thought my deadline was the 12th, not the 3rd. (I'm a horrible mod, I know...) These are going back into regular circulation, though; my PPY muse has officially been partially released from the aliens (ok, more like said aliens have been threatened with chainsaws...), so hopefully more ideas will come for these.