Disclaimer: I don't own these people

Seeing

Wednesday. Sakura tossed clothes haphazardly into a bag and finally dropped bad-temperedly onto her bed. She couldn't believe Tomoyo just expected her to drop everything and go with her to Paris, with just 4 days notice! Friendship only went so far...

Sakura blew at her hair, and sighed. Friendship did go far, apparently. Luckily for Tomoyo, Sakura was willing to go, if it meant making her best friend happy. Involuntarily, her thoughts shifted to Syaoran again. It had been five days since she'd last seen him, and the loss was like an ache, spreading and practically alive with pain. Would he know that she had gone? It would just be three weeks, really. Would he care?

Slamming the suitcase shut, she dragged out the second one to be filled. He wasn't deserving, damnit, so she should cut her losses and move on already! A sharp splinter from the breaking-apart suitcase snagged her on the finger, and she sat with a gasp of pain. Shoving her hair out of her eyes again, she clutched the base of her index finger and squeezed the wound with all her might. Her eyes closed with the agony. How could such a small cut cause so much pain? She wished she had someone there with her, like Tomoyo had Eriol, like her mom had her dad, even like Meilin had Mortimer! Cursing herself for ten kinds of a fool, she let a tear get past her guard and track down her cheek. God, she hated crying. It accomplished nothing, yet women seemed to be so adept at it. She had never found it particularly amazing to be so capable at something which wasted time and tissues.

Pushing aside the misery that had seemed so much her companion these days, she got back to packing. She'd not allow anything to compromise Tomoyo's special day, least of all not herself.

Syaoran growled low in his throat, and his secretary, a young woman of twenty-three who worshipped him, scrambled away. He couldn't even summon up the energy to be sorry. His lack of sleep seemed to be only the least of his problems.

Where was Sakura now? For all their bumping into each other before, suddenly she was nowhere to be found. She hadn't gone to Antonello's, seemed to be away at wherever she worked during the day, and at night she was also never at home! Could the damned woman go to bars and eat out every single night? She was driving him crazy.

He almost wished the company had been suffering just so he could have some proof of his insane distraction. He must surely be mad, to think of only one woman day and night. He was positive that he at least deserved a chance to make things right. He wondered if normal men were usually made to suffer for so long by their wives. He wondered if she was worth it. Oh yes she was, but he'd be damned if he'd beg.

That was it. He was going to go to her apartment tomorrow after work ended and wait for her until she got home, When she worked for him, she always seemed to be used to that particular working hours, so he could only make an educated guess that wherever she was working, she kept the same hours. He'd make her listen to his apology, then he'd let her apologize for not trusting him, then they could go from there. It sounded like a good plan. Suddenly feeling so much better for a concrete strategy, Syaoran was finally able to work.

Tomoyo had let her take Thursday off to run some last minute errands. Her apartment needed to be house-sitted, and she pleaded the chore off of old Mrs. Burseberry across the hall. She was sure the old lady would watch the apartment for her, because firstly, Mrs. Burseberry always seemed to like Sakura, and secondly, the old hag never did anything but spy on people and their business out her windows anyway. Sakura was positive Mrs. Burseberry would make an excellent house-sitter.

Giving Mrs. Burseberry one last bright smile, Sakura walked back across the hall. There was a distinct scent of aniticipation in the air, as if something might happen that would just cap off the happiness of her best friend getting married. Sakura shrugged it off to wishful thinking. Nothing special was coming her way, and she'd better stop hurting herself with the hope.

Halfway across the city, Syaoran was hurtling his Jag down an empty tourist district during his lunch hour. Funny how there were no crowds that day, being a tourist district at one of the busiest times of the day. It brought back to mind the day when Sakura and him just happened to be sitting side by side in the same Chuck Norris revival, in a city with eight million people. What were the chances? He'd never quite believed in fate before Sakura, and now...

He suddenly jammed on the brakes and jerked to a stop right in front of a storefront window, displaying porcelain dolls of all shapes and kinds. The sign above the window read: 'Porcelain Pretties'. Syaoran stared at what had caught his eye. Framed by the glass window, right in the centre of the elaborate display containing at least thirty porcelain figures, was a perfect imitation of Simba, the lion from the Disney cartoon, The Lion King.

Almost afraid to blink in case it was an illusion, Syaoran got out of the Jag without taking his eyes off the doll. Pushing the door to the shop open, he barely registered the chime of the bells placed at the doorway. What did it mean? Had he been meant to find the very same doll that Sakura had lost years and years ago? Did he really want to look over his shoulder that very moment? He imagined that he'd find some ethereal being with the word 'fate' written on a placard hanging around his neck, grinning at him, no less.

Going straight to the counter, he told the roundtound woman there that he wanted the Simba doll in the window packaged, please, and did she have one in a hamburger shape?

He didn't want to go back to work after that. He wanted to see Sakura. He wanted her to forgive him, for them to go back to the way things were. No, not the way things were. That was too easy. He wanted to make it difficult for the both of them. No escaping this relationship this time. He wanted marriage. He wanted to seal things up so tight she could never get away from him ever again.

Pulling up in front ofher apartment for what seemed like the twentieth time in the past five days, Syaoran got slowly out of the car. Something told him Sakura was inside there today, waiting for him. He remembered suddenly that her friend's wedding was tomorrow, and reminded himself to ask to take her to that too. They could have a double wedding, for all he cared. He wanted her bound to him as quickly as was humanly possible.

Suddenly he couldn't get up the stairs fast enough. He jabbed the button on the intercom violently, holding the paper bag containing his peace offerings in one hand. Sakura's voice filled the box and seemed to wrap around him.

"Yes?"

Syaoran said the first thing that came to mind. "Your delivery."

"I didn't order anything. You must have made a mistake. My name's Sakura Kinomoto. Have you got that name on whatever delivery address you have there?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes. If someone had meant to rob her, they'd have robbed her blind by now; she was so naive sometimes. "Yes, it says Sakura Kinomoto here," he ran a hand through his hair, 'Miss." he added for good measure.

"Okay, then. Come on up." Syaoran made a mental note to tell her off for being so trusting. They were living in New York City, for God's sake! But all thought fled once she opened the door and he saw her again.

Note: Chapter 15 people! It's ending soon, but I'm working on my next one, so no worries.