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Bound For Paris

Syaoran couldn't really pin-point the exact time, but he thought he must have come to his senses at around midnight. Sakura was leaving him. He couldn't let that happen, becasue he was pretty sure life would be meaningless without her, he'd never be able to eat at Antonello's again, and any other good food, for that matter. He'd never be able to watch Chuck Norris again, he'd never be able to have another picnic, or even go to Central Park without making himself utterly miserable. If even just for his survival, he couldn't let her go.

Funny how he'd lived a perfectly content, normal life before she'd come along, and then after she left he just simply couldn't do without her, couldn't face the long road of his life without her presence at least somewhere down the line.

There had to be a way. He had to find a way.

Sakura couldn't believe all their suitcases had fit in one cab, even if it were a maxicab. Tomoyo seemed to have brought her entire house with her, and the entire product stock of her bridal shop. Four suitcases for a three week trip? Sakura was still reeling.

One last slam of the doors, and the cab was pulling away from the curb. Sakura sat staring out the window at her apartment with Tomoyo's hand clutching hers excitedly, wondering if Syaoran would come to the building and look for her again. Did he really think she didn't love him? Could men really be so blind? Turning her head resolutely to the front, she decided to find a handsome man in Paris, any handsome man, and have a wild fling. Then she'd forget about Syaoran. But even the breeze in the night air seemed to whisper that she had no hope of ever doing so.

Sakura stood at the gate, stalling.

"Erm... Tomoyo, Eriol, why don't you two go in first? I'll catch up with you two later." She clutched her carry-on like a life-line, having checked in her luggages an hour before. It was two in the morning, one more hour before take-off.

"Sakura! We have to board now! They don't close the gates at exactly three so late-comers can stroll in, you know! We have to board now! Come on!" Tomoyo tugged on her T-shirt hard, and dragged Eriol through with her first.

Casting one last look around, desperately looking for a tall, brown-haired man, knowing he wouldn't be there after she'd brushed him off but still wishing he'd come. If he'd come...

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, dragging on for as long as she dared. She couldn't miss the plane. She didn't want to miss her best friend's marriage registration ceremony at least, since the wedding of the century had been cancelled. Sakura imagined Tomoyo's mother would be equal parts horrified and pleased, first because her daughter had deprived her of going through with her so-awesome-it-was-off-the-wall wedding, and second because she herself would be allowed to host the reception for her daughter instead. Mrs. Daidouji simply thrived on social events.

Sakura's thoughts were interrupted my Tomoyo's close to hysterical shrieking. "Get your skinny ass in here, Sakura!" She pointed to the ground at her feet. She was already on the other side of the departure gate.

How could she leave Syaoran? Thinking fast, she tried to find a way to stay, and a way to leave. She couldn't seem to do either properly.

The announcement felt to Sakura to have practically blared out of the speakers, meant specially for her ears, to wake her up to reality. "Last call for flight BJ4895 to Paris. Last call for flight BJ4895...". Avoiding Tomoyo's knowing and sympathetic eyes, Sakura pulled out her passport and stepped over the white line.

She really didn't think he would have come, anyway. All those cliched scenes in the movies about lovers catching each other right before planes left at airports were just that. In the movies. She really hadn't thought he would have come. But she wished he did. Oh, how she wished with all her heart he had.

She walked slowly to the open door of the aeroplane, Tomoyo's comforting hand across her shoulders. She was looking forward to hours and hours of excruciating wakefulness in which she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from thinking about him.

The doorway of the plane loomed before her, coming ever closer. He could still catch her if he came now. Deep inside her heart, she knew that if he had come for her, to take her away, she would have thrown caution to the winds, not thought about his lying or betrayal or his bets, and just gone with him, no questions asked. But he hadn't come.

She stepped through the door, into the plane.

Across the city, oblivious to the heartbreak and pain that they had caused, Mortimer Davis and Meilin Li lurched together over a small table in The Dewberry, right back where they started, it seemed. Roaring drunk, they could do nothing but babble about all that had gone wrong for them over the past three weeks.

"He turned me down again, Morty." Meilin spit out. Her tongue seemed to have grown three sizes larger, and words suddenly were a bigger feat to accomplish than usual. It occured to her in the druken haze that that was the reason why she'd always avoided getting drunk. But Syaoran's spurning of her love the second time seemed to have warranted such a celebration.

" I went to his apartment tonight," she took a second to hiccup, "he told me he wasn't ready for a relationship! Not ready for a relationship, Morty! That's what-" another hiccup, "he said to me! Didn't he see me at all? I was wearing this!" she swept a hand in a broad arc down her body, showing off her tight-as-ever flesh in all it's cat-suited glory.

Mortimer swiped his sleeve across his mouth. "Must've been blind. I'm not, though. You..." he teetered dangerously on his stool, "You look hooot." he ended on a slur. "Wait a second. What were we talking about again?"

Meilin managed to narrow her eyes quite successfully at him without crossing her vision three different ways. "Syaoran and I. We were talking about me. And Syaoran.". She clamped a hand on the table for support, thinking absently that maybe five martinis were three too many.

Mortimer glanced once down her top and looked quickly away, feeling the booze about to come back up the way it went down, stimulated by the many different planes of Meilin's chest. Mortimer wondered vaguely if you could get sea-sickness from looking at someone's breasts. It was almost worth it to throw up.

"Well," he volunteered, "Sakura didn't take me back either. And I even brought her a present! I bought her a dozen doughnuts! A dozen! Those things cost a bomb, you know! Especially the ones with chocolate filling..." he trailed off, and eyed Meilin's slumped form on the table. When had she knocked out? He couldn't seem to remember. Setting his glass carefully on the table, he allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness right beside her.

Sakura sat in her seat, buckled up tight, staring sadly out the window. Glad Tomoyo had bought them first class tickets because of the privacy, she watched the night air swirl into a mist and settle, like magic. He hadn't come afterall, and she had to accept that now. She'd held hope until the very last moment, until the door to the plane had closed. Now, the plane was taxiing, moving onto the runway, getting ready to take off. She clutched the paper bag he'd given her in her hands.

Trying to take her mind of him and the insane urge to cry yet again, she began counting stars. Tomoyo was sitting two rows in front with Eriol, while the seat beside her own was empty. There was nothing to distract her but herself. All too soon, she could feel the purr of the engines speeding up, urging the plane into the air. She couldn't help it, abandoned the count at forty-five and thought of Syaoran. Would she ever see him again? Was he thinking about her now?

Slowly, Sakura's ears popped as the plane lifted off, bound for Paris.

Note: Next chapter's the last. If you guys think I have places to improve, could you possibly specify? Rather than just tell me it's not good enough. It makes me confused. I appreciate it! Thanks.