Last chapter.
Some spoilers if you don't know about all the clones.
X X X
Back in their grimy little flat, "Syaoran" was sitting on the arm of the sofa. His jacket was draped around his shoulders and his shirt was tossed in the dumpster outside. There had been too much blood on it to even think of saving the cloth. Mokona had helped him wrap his back and chest. The little creature, the only one that spoke to him kindly, was sitting on his thigh. Its little paws were wrapped around the buckle on his leg, staring up at him sadly.
The magician was in the princess's room with her. They were murmuring quietly, speaking in hushed voices, like they did every dark night.
"Syaoran" stared at the door as if he could see through it, as if he saw something terrible on the other side: something that took all hope from his heart.
Mokona wished there was something to do to take that pain from his face.
Kurogane's boots tapped on the floor as he came in from the hallway outside. He had a brown bag under his arm and a few glasses in his free hand. He disappeared into the little kitchen and Mokona listened to him shuffling about. Then, the tap-tap of his footsteps on the tile approached as he came into the living room where "Syaoran" was sitting.
"Kurogane…" Mokona said desperately, but the ninja was already ahead of the little creature.
Kurogane offered "Syaoran" a glass, already full. "Here's liquor. Can you drink it?" He asked, not gently, not roughly, just softly.
Syaoran's throat flashed as he swallowed a bit nervously. This was the first time the older warrior had reached out to him, tried to accept him. He didn't want to mess it up and send himself spinning back into the dark and lonely abyss. "Considering the other me was able to…" he began.
Kurogane eyes narrowed and he cut the kid off. "I asked if you could drink it," he said firmly. His crimson eyes bored into Syaoran, waiting but not patiently.
Syaoran's amber eyes widened, but he looked away, ashamed, of what he wasn't sure. "I don't know," he whispered finally.
Kurogane pressed the full glass into his palm. It was cold, sending a shiver through Syaoran's heated body. The ninja sat down heavily on the sofa next to Syaoran without a sound and screwed the top off the bottle in his hand.
Mokona smiled. "Yep! Mokona wants to know what "Syaoran" is like when he drinks!" The little creature bounced onto Kurogane's lap and grasped at the smooth sides of the bottle. "Let's drink!"
"Are you trying to drink directly from the bottle," Kurogane demanded and tried to shake the little creature off.
"Of course! That's exactly what Mokona is going to do!"
Mokona cuddled the bottle cheerfully, suspended from Kurogane's hand, while a vein ticked irritably in Kurogane's forehead.
"Give it back," he snapped.
"Never!"
Syaoran looked on, envying their closeness and ease with each other. He had been alone, trapped in Fei-Wang's clutches for so long, watching them wonderingly through the eye of his image. For years, it was all he had wanted just to be with them, to be able to talk to them, but the events in Acid Tokyo had made him an outsider where he may have been accepted.
Kurogane was reaching out to him now as was Mokona.
For that he was grateful.
"Thank you," Syaoran whispered.
Mokona didn't hear, but Kurogane glanced quickly at him. The instant their eyes met, Syaoran felt a fragile bond form between them. He decided then that he would do everything he could to keep that bond of frail friendship. Maybe, in time, they would all accept him.
Not as "Syaoran", but as Syaoran.
…
In her room, Sakura was lying face down on her bed. Fai was seated quietly at her side, listening to her body shaking with sobs and anguish. He wished there was something he could to for her, but what could he even say.
"I know," Sakura whispered. "I know that he isn't Syaoran-kun. I've traveled through so many worlds with Syaoran-kun and although he may be the basis for the one I'm familiar with, I know in my head that they're two different people!" She dug her fingers into the mattress.
"But… it's still no good!" she sobbed. Her back, bare and white against the black silk of her dress, trembled.
"It isn't just his face! His voice… and the way he moves… and those straight-forward eyes of his…" she whispered. Her leg ached where the brace dug into her skin through the thin black stocking. "As I find places that look alike, traits that are the same… as I find more and more of them, it's just no good!" She bit her lip, tasting salt and sadness on her own skin.
"I wonder if the one right in front of me isn't Syaoran-kun after all," Sakura murmured desperately.
"Sakura-chan," Fai whispered and gently touched her hand where it was exposed, fisted in the sheets.
Then, they spoke of her wish, of her failing heart, of this Syaoran and the image.
Sakura looked like a ghost, so white and sorrowful against the black of her clothing. Her injured leg was stretched out next to her, buckles of the brace shining dimly in the pale electric light outside. Her hair cast thin wispy shadows on her face, on her deep jade-green eyes. Her lips were as red as blood, but her face had lost all its healthy color. She looked sick, a lost and beautiful young corpse, a girl who had seen too much.
Like the other Syaoran, wounded, sitting on the couch outside the room with Kurogane, she was dying inside. They needed each other, the comfort they could offer just from having lost and given up many things, but… Syaoran would never be selfish enough to force her to so much as look at him and Sakura would never be able to take his heart in her hands and break it.
Fai could see the cameras watching them. It sent a shiver down his spine to know that others could see the agony between them.
He kissed the back of Sakura's hand and whispered, "There may not be much time left though…"
He meant for all of them.
…
"This Syaoran is a fun drunk," Mokona whispered to Kurogane as the ninja poured more alcohol into its glass.
Syaoran was lying on the couch next to Kurogane. His jacket was hanging across his body, one arm limply draped over the edge of the couch to where his glass was settled on the floor. Some blood had seeped through the bandages wrapped around and around his upper body. His face was pale and his eyes moved restlessly beneath his lids. He was so thin, stretched out there on the worn stained sofa.
"But this Syaoran has too many worries, asleep so quickly," Mokona continued, looking sadly over the young man's sleeping figure.
"Well, with the princess's attitude," Kurogane said a bit scornfully.
"Sakura has had painful times with Syaoran gone and all," Mokona said as if that was a good excuse for the way she had been treating this Syaoran.
"That isn't the only thing," Kurogane said, almost to himself. "Something is being hidden from us."
"Fai is? Sakura is?"
"Both, I guess," Kurogane confessed. He stared at the door to the princess's room. "But the princess especially. Haven't you noticed anything?" He asked and darkness shadowed his face.
"Nothing while Mokona is awake, but Mokona can't tell when Mokona is asleep. Back when talking to Fai, Yuuko told Mokona to sleep and even when Mokona was asleep, Yuuko and Fai talked. So if Sakura talked to Yuuko while Mokona was asleep, then Mokona doesn't know about it," the little creature explained sadly.
Kurogane felt a bubble of anger well up in his chest. This Syaoran and even Mokona thought it was their fault everything was falling apart. They were both ashamed and of nothing. Nothing was their fault, but they felt guilty anyway.
Sometimes, people could be too kind.
"Even so…"
The voice was sudden, startling Mokona so that the creature leaped onto Kurogane's hand where he was holding the bottle. It was clutching its glass in fear, but relaxed when Syaoran's eyes fluttered weakly open. It unnerved Kurogane to know that the kid might have been listening to their conversation.
"I'll protect her, no matter what…" Syaoran whispered.
Kurogane handed the bottle and his glass to Mokona and the creature balanced them in a precarious pile. He put his hand over Syaoran's face, laid his fingers over the kid's eyes, forcing them to slide closed. He sighed and shook his head sadly.
"Sleep."
When he pulled his hand away, the kid was deeply asleep.
Kurogane took the bottle back from Mokona, murmuring, "You sleep, too."
"What about Kurogane?"
He shook the bottle. Liquor sloshed around inside. "There's still some left," he explained.
"With Kurogane awake, everyone else can sleep and feel safe," Mokona said with a glowing love for the dark ninja.
Kurogane humphed, uncomfortable admitting how deeply he cared for everyone around him. For the kid and the little white creature and the princess and even that annoying magician… They had all become precious to him and that's why it pained him to see them all hurting.
Mokona busily made itself comfortable with Syaoran, shuffling under the collar of his jacket and tucking under the young man's chin. Syaoran didn't stir, but lifted his chin to accommodate the little creature's warm body against his. Mokona was deeply asleep in moments.
Kurogane looked down at them.
The little creature was the same white as Syaoran's pale skin, as the bandages. Even in sleep, Syaoran's face was lined with worry and pain.
The kid was suffering.
Kurogane looked back toward the princess's closed door.
"First one, now all of them," he murmured and didn't drink anymore.
…
It was late in the night when Sakura woke for no apparent reason. She was bothered by the lack of Mokona's fuzzy little body in her bed with her, but the little creature often elected to sleep with the other Syaoran so that couldn't have been what had woken her.
Pale electric light streamed in through her window. The moon was blotted out by a cloudy stormy sky. She could hear cars passing and people fighting on the street below. The scent was garbage and the stink of too many people was heavy in the air, even inside the little flat. This world was far from peaceful, far from comfortable.
Wide awake now, she decided to get a drink of water from the small kitchen and see if anyone else was having trouble sleeping tonight. Maybe whatever had wordlessly woken her had woken Fai or Kurogane, too. Part of her hoped Syaoran was asleep and part of her hoped he would be awake.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, or tried to. Her injured leg remained useless and limp at her side. She slid it into her brace and buckled it up tightly. It was cold on her skin and pinched her cruelly as she stood up and made a few hobbling steps around her room. The sound of her brace dragging on the floor unnerved her. She hated it.
She pulled open her bedroom door quietly, easing it on its corroded creaky hinges. More pale electric light filled the living room. A small lamp had been left on in the corner. Kurogane and Fai's doors were closed down the other hallway. She didn't look at Syaoran's.
Dragging her weak injured leg, she hobbled to the kitchen and ran cold water in the sink. She splashed some on her face and filled a glass that had been left out on the sink. The bottom of it smelled of liquor, reminding her of better times. She couldn't finish the glass of water and poured the rest down the drain.
For a long time, she stood there. She stared at the water hanging like crystals in the sink, at the swirl of clear liquid in the bottom of the glass, at the bottle with a bit of liquor still left in it on the windowsill.
Outside, a night bird screamed.
Sakura picked up the bottle and grabbed the glass out of the sink, shaking the water from it. She poured the remainder of the alcohol into the glass and angrily drank. The liquor burned in her throat. It was not the sweet liquor that she and Fai normally drank together, like they used to drink in Oto and Shara and Piffle. This was Kurogane's liquor, sharp and burning in her chest like fire.
Coughing, she gripped the rim of the sink and tried to catch her breath.
Her elbow struck the bottle, knocked it to the floor. It shattered into millions of pieces.
Sobbing, Sakura sank down in the puddle of glass and water and liquor. Her leg spread out in front of her, brace shining. She put her face in her hands and sobbed.
Why?
Why did this happen?
Why was everything falling apart?
Quiet footsteps padded in the other room.
She recognized Syaoran's silhouette when his shadow fell over her. The sight of him almost made her start sobbing anew.
"Sakura-hime," he whispered.
"I'm alright," she said. The words to send him away were on the tip of her tongue, but he stepped into the kitchen. Unlike she, who wore her brace and shoes, his feet were bare. There was glass on the floor and Sakura's compassion won out over her other emotions. "Don't! I knocked over a bottle. There's glass in here," she told him quietly.
The light came on, momentarily blinding her.
Syaoran was a sad figure in the threshold. His chest was a mess of bandages from the chess battle today when he had struck the thorns. Their opponents had cheated and hurt him severely, but he never uttered word of complaint. He simply wrapped his wounds and continued. His hair was lank, hanging around his face in wisps of chocolate. The black pants with buckles and straps showed off the lean muscles of his legs and his thinness. His shoulders looked like the skulls of birds.
He looked like he could die in front of her at any second.
Sakura stared at the hint of exposed pale stomach and then met his beautiful amber eyes.
"Are you alright?" He murmured.
She nodded and reached above her head to grip the counter. Then, she heaved herself upright again. Her leg trembled beneath her.
He took a step forward, hands almost outstretched to help her, and then stopped. She leaned heavily on the counter.
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Jade-green against honeyed-amber.
Sakura felt her tongue dart out over her lips and then she felt her mouth speak. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Syaoran's eyes widened and then darkened with sadness. He stepped into the kitchen, treading heedlessly on the broken glass.
"Don't!" Sakura protested and she wasn't sure of exactly what she didn't want him to do: walk on the glass, hurt himself, or come closer to her, touch her.
He winced.
His hands were warm on her shoulders and he stared into her eyes for a long moment. Then, he carefully lifted her legs and cradled her body against him. She allowed him to hold her, carry her from the kitchen where her sorrows still burned in her throat. He opened the door to her room and carried her inside.
There, he set her down on her bed and knelt in front of her. His fingers were warm and soft as he gently unbuckled her brace and slid it down her leg. He laid it aside and slid off her shoe next. Then, still kneeling at her feet, almost between her legs, he looked up at her.
She couldn't look at him. Her eyes strayed to the window, to the piled grimy buildings outside and the hidden moon.
His voice was so quiet that she almost missed his words. "You don't ever have to tell me you're sorry," he whispered and gently touched her knee.
She looked at him.
The electric light cast a faint shadow in his face so that it looked like bruise. She was reminded of how much she had hurt him, of the wound on his back, of everything he had done for her. She felt terrible anguish bottle up in her chest, wanting to come out as a cry, but she held it back.
For the longest time, Syaoran remained there, kneeling in front of her, and she looked at him. Then, she slowly and cautiously cupped his face between her palms. His skin was satin-soft and heated with fever, most likely from that wound on his back. His eyes didn't slide closed. He kept looking at her, holding her eyes, and she couldn't look away.
Gently, she threaded her fingers through his hair. The locks were as soft as silk and slightly tangled.
"Is this a dream?" She asked him quietly.
"Maybe," he whispered.
"What should I do…?"
His eyes continued boring into hers even as he pulled away from her fingers and stood up. Blood seeped around his feet. "Whatever you need to," he murmured. "I'm always going to be here for you. I'll always do what you ask of me, even at the greatest cost to myself."
Sakura wet her lips. "Could you…?"
He gazed at her, into her. "It's not me you want, is it?"
She hesitated.
He didn't say anything more.
Finally, she murmured, "You are him, aren't you? You're Syaoran-kun."
He finally looked away, as if ashamed. "In a way," he said softly.
Sakura felt tears welling up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. "Something terrible is going to happen here," she confessed. "That's why I have to stay."
He nodded. "I have to go, Sakura," he said.
A chord resonated deep in her heart. She almost stopped him, but couldn't find her voice. By the time she managed to speak, he was already closing the door.
"Wait…"
He stopped, eased the door open again, and their eyes met through the darkness.
"In Shara, I asked you for something," she whispered. "Do you remember?"
"I always remember…"
"Will you do it now?"
Syaoran stepped into the room again and knelt in front of her. "I'm not him, Sakura. I'm just me," he whispered.
She cupped his face. "I know, but… maybe you're one in the same…"
Syaoran nodded.
Sakura's eyes slid closed and she waited for the instant his lips would touch hers. His breath was light on her face, scented faintly of alcohol.
Maybe he had been drinking with Kurogane.
His lips touched the corner of her mouth lightly, feathered a kiss there. Sakura turned her chin to catch his lips, falling into him. The kiss set a fire in her stomach, heating her entire body.
Her leg burned where the old healed wound was.
She sensed Syaoran move, pressing his hand over the pace in his thigh where the image had stabbed him.
They were both hurting, desperate, lost.
Sakura kissed him harder, clutching her fingers in his hair. His hands touched her waist, held her gently, tenderly.
This Syaoran had always been to considerate to her, stopping even while he was fighting the image at such a wound to himself. He had always sacrificed everything for her: his own freedom, his time, his vision, his body, everything.
It wasn't fair for her to ask more of him, but she did because he would always give to her.
Something flashed through her head, a vision, a memory. The truth about her, about him. The image, the clones, both of them. She wasn't meant to be with him. She could see that now. All she was doing was hurting him, hurting herself. She wasn't meant for him, not this Syaoran.
Tears leaked under her closed lids and ran down her cheeks.
Syaoran pulled away. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, unable to speak.
Profound hurt touched his eyes again, drowned him. "I'm sorry," he said.
Then, he stood up and Sakura imagined she saw a scar on his leg burning white through his clothes. This time, she couldn't call out to him.
She let him close the door and resolved not to hurt him anymore.
From now on, I'd like you to have your freedom…
She also resolved never to drink again.
X X X
And, drum roll please, we are finished!
I had a little trouble ending this chapter. Grr.
Here we go. Very important author's note:
First, drop a review and let me know what you think! Are the characters way out of character? Does everybody hate Sakura? Think I torture Syaoran way too much (but it's because he's so easy to be mean to, though I always make sure to give him a happy ending!)? Are permanently disgusted and can no longer even watch Tsubasa thanks to me? Loved it? Hated it? Are scared for life because of what happened to Syaoran? (Flames will be used to roast marshmallows and weenies!) Think I need to do more editing before I post chapters? Post to slow? Chapters are to short? To long? Yada, yada, yada…
Second, there will be no sequel… at all, so don't ask!
Third, I own nothing except my original characters even though there are none in this fic. I also own my plot! So there, now I can't be sued!
Fourth, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)
Finally, thank you for making it this far! All the way to the end! Woot!
*Fai fake whistles*
And so, I bid you adieu.