Chapter one – Brothers and Twins and Sons

Beta: by KuRoHiTsUzEn

I packed a few of my belongings
Left the life that I was living
Just some memories of it
Mostly the ones I can't forget

Gnarls Bakley, "St. Elsewhere"

Syaoran's POV

Did I believe in things like parallel universes? It didn't exclude the possible existence of them even if the idea recalled images of SciFi or Fantasy novels – no, I just doubted that there was a way to make contact with these worlds even if they existed. Thus, it wasn't until I had my first contact with the Alternate Universe in October 2010 that I started wondering what it would be like to live there. The more we found out about it, the more it became obvious that the other world was like a sibling to ours; the same and yet not the same. There are some significant technological and governmental differences, while pop culture is pretty much the same, or, to explain it a little more detailed; even if there are airships flying in the sky and double-decker cars on the streets, you can still relax at home with your favourite comic or have dinner at your favourite fast food restaurant – as long as you can deal with the fact that GreenLantern is red and that it's MacRonald's instead of MacDonald's.

October 3rd, 2010

We grow up believing that our world is solid. Not really safe and sometimes not sane, but solid, like a brick. We know that we live on a big blue ball and we believe that the world we experience now is the only one we can experience. Physically, one might add, as certain religions promise a life in a world where only our souls can enter.

Only a handful of people are aware that the fabric of what we claim to be reality is rather thin. The ones who know the world know that there's not just one world. In fact, there were at least two of them, twinuniverses, which provide a home for nearly the same amount of people. They were not identical twins but they were very close, and in some places, where the fabric of reality gets worn through they touch, resulted in a soft spot where one (equipped with the right knowledge and devices) was able to cross over.

There was a shop.

It did not exist in between the worlds, it did not grant wishes, and there was no witch running it. Yet, this shop was less than ordinary; as it was placed in a spot where the barrier was rather thin. Not thin enough to cross over, but in a special room in the back, there was a room, bare except for a table with an old typewriter and a mirror, and if you slammed you fingers on the keys to leave a message and decided to wait a little bit… you might get an answer.

From there.

It was a cold evening, and Mother Earth had decided to confuse the human beings who wandered on her face a little bit as she sent heavy gray clouds filled with snow, giving the illusion of a peaceful winter's night. And just like the weather did not match the season, a young man stood at the water's edge of a deserted park lake, wearing a pair of jeans, Converse Chucks and a light sweater, he certainly wasn't prepared for temperatures this low. He clenched his teeth, but that was the only reaction the cold elicited.

An old man taking his dog for a walk slowly approached, unaware that had he been there a few moments earlier, he could have seen the kid appear from nowhere, materializing at a spot where the air was blurring. But the boy passed over unseen and; after he spared the new environment a few exploring glances, ran across the lawns of the park. There was someone he had to find… someone he had to become. Right now he was nothing more than a life that was not attached to any other, and to change that, he was about to get to a certain shop in a certain street, where he could gain both information and further instructions.

Someone was waiting there for him.

Syaoran yawned and rubbed an eye as he made back his way home from the subway station, tired and frustrated about another day in the office that he had spent hounded by paperwork. His superior, Kurogane-san, had refused to let anyone go until he had the very last report on his desk, and his merciless glare had told them not to expect any exceptions. It was obvious that this was a reaction to the fiasco they had experienced this morning; the bloody mess that marked the end of two weeks of investigation that kept teams of the police, FBI, CIA and Homeland Security busy.

Syaoran was still not sure of exactly what had happened – he was just a junior agent and the task he had been given was to examine the hidden lab after the first team had cleared it.

The next thing he remembered was a wave of hot air sweeping him off his feet.

The explosion had killed six special agents, well trained men far more experienced than Syaoran himself. Two of them, Shogo and Zima, had been members of their team, and as far as Syaoran could tell (but he was a Probie, left the Academy only four months ago) Zima and Kurogane-san had been not just colleagues; but friends.

And when Kurogane decided to imprison the rest of them in their small offices, the brunet wondered, is this some sort of punishment? Or had he just wanted to lock us away safely, keep us from the dangers that the world has in store? The junior agent was only sure that he didn't envy his boss in the least.

It was six past eight PM and the young man was desperate for some coffee and it was nothing but the prospect of a pot of the hot, aromatic drink that kept him walking.

He had reached the apartment block he lived in when he heard footsteps approaching, and very fast they were; the pace of a man who wanted to catch up with someone or something.

"Sir?" the stranger called out and Syaoran stopped. There was no one on the street but him, for he was living in an outer realm of Boston, where the rents were cheaper and the apartments were inhabited by either students or old people, while the latter formed the majority. So the words had to be directed at him. He turned around to meet the pleading look of two olive green eyes that belonged to a face much like his own. In fact, the young man coming toward him looked so similarly to Syaoran that the agent was thunderstruck. Both had about the same height and size, and a mop of unruly brown hair. If Syaoran hadn't been absolutely sure that he was an only child, he would call the stranger a long lost brother of his.

"Um… how can I help you?" he asked, following the rules of policy that were engraved in the pattern of his soul.

The other just smiled… and that smile gave his charming young face an impish note. Syaoran suddenly had to think of a cat that had found a mouse to play with. "I'm new to this town and I got a little bit lost. I wanted to visit my cousin and he gave me his address, along with a description but somehow… I lost track." While he was speaking, the stranger buried one hand in the pocket of a coat that was a few sizes too large for him. "Where did I put it?" he murmured.

"Oh. If that's the case… I'm only living here for a few months but I've gotten around a little. Where does your cousin live?" Syaoran took a look around. He knew his way back home very well but had never bothered to keep the names of the streets and places in mind. He had a map in his bag-pack, and if he just found out where they were now… There was a street sign at the crossroad he had passed just a minute ago, but it was dark and yellowish ray emitting from the street lights were not helping. Still, the young man squinted his eyes as if that would make him able to decipher the letters on the sign. So he missed the little black device his almost-doppelganger fetched from inside his coat pockets. It wasn't until the stranger talked that his attention snapped back to the other man, and then it was too late.

"Do you know what this is: the more there is, the less you see?[1]"

Syaoran was about to make a noise of confusion as two metal bolts touched his skin and with the buzzing sound his vision burst into white and his consciousness faded away.

Syaoron watched the limbs of his victim grow weak. As the man lay on the ground, he gave his body a few shakes to make sure he really had passed out and let the taser disappear into the coat that he had borrowed from Kyle. He then gathered the poor guy in his arms and dragged him into the next back road. What he planned to do was not going to take long (at least that was what he has been told. It was the first time that he had to shift, if one did not count the very first time, which was not, per se, a shiftbut a becoming; the procedure that had followed right after his birth and that he had had no awareness of) but Syaoron wanted to be sure they were not easily seen by passersby. Once he made sure the black shadow of the unlit alley would swallow them, he fished for the other device in the right pocket and placed it on the unconscious' chest; a small black, no, anthracite box with a steel rotary control switch on its top and two fancy ribbons coming from out of opposite sides. Syaoron pulled the ribbons until they had the proper length and stuffed one end in Syaoran's mouth.

And then… he was unsure what to do next. Would it be enough to place his hands on his face and... push? Or should he smash his face against the wall? But then his skin would be injured. No. He had to try to break the bones of his face with his hands. Shit. This would surely hurt like hell. The brunet grumbled and pressed his palm against his nose. He spared his victim a last glance with green eyes and murmured: "I really hope you're worth this crap."

In the darkness of the night bones were cracked and broken until a face became a grotesque mask of twisted flesh, no features were to be found above the searching open mouth where the second ribbon was stuffed.

This was the moment they were most vulnerable.

Not just because they were blind, but because their nature was so horrifically obvious; less human and more akin to a monster. This moment would only last the minutes that it took for the shapeshifter to fumble for the device and move the switch so that the connection was built, data transferred and bones rearranged and fixed.

Syaoron wanted to cry out but couldn't; his mouth re-forming with every part of his head flooded with a sensational current that induced both ecstasy and agony at the same time. He felt dizzy for a few seconds and he was sure his skin was too tight, the newly formed bones of his face too big, yet as he touched his cheeks and his forehead they seemed not just faultless but soft.

So much for the easy part. Now he had to figure a way to get his dear 'brother' to the shop. There were two options:

a) he had to drag Syaoran to the subway, which would draw a lot more attention than he could afford, even if he played the role of the caring boy manoeuvring his very drunk, passed-out twin home, but there was still the risk that his victim might wake up.

Or b) he had to wait until the guy woke up to convince him to take a walk with him.

Yeah. That sounded promising.

Well, there was always option c). Which was basically option b), only he used a weapon to 'convince' Syaoran, but none of those ideas were particularly flawless.

While he weighed his options, he filched the brunets' belongings and found the desired weapon in the back-pack.

Oh, aren't these probies cute? It seems that my 'brother' still feels uneasy carrying a gun.

He shouldered the back-pack and made sure that the gun was loaded. Then Syaoron sat down next to the limp body and waited.

"You know", he informed his victim (but perhaps informed is the wrong word, considering that the other could not hear him), "You can consider yourself lucky. Usually, we kill the ones we're going to replace. But for you, my friend and brother, other commands apply."

Syaoran had to live so that Syaoron could study him. The quirks in his behaviour and the little gestures; followed by whatever knowledge he had. Mainly things that previous observations taken by Kyle Rondart could not reveal. Besides, it was father's wish that the boy remained unharmed and Syaoron would do as his father wanted to; the only thing outweighing his loyalty for Fujitaka being his love for the man.

That was why Syaoron could not afford to fail.

His tongue was itching and his fingers shook of their own accord.

The first thing Syaoran became aware of as his consciousness lethargically crept back was the throbbing in his shoulder where the taser had scorched his skin. He cracked his eyes open carefully and closed them again. Within the second that this action took his eyes received enough information to form an image, though it consisted mostly of black and white. He was lying on the ground, his back felt cold and soaked with melted snow but something was missing; yet he could not recall what it was. He had seen a small light ribbon against the blackness of his surroundings and… shadows. His memory slowly came back. He had been on the street. He still was outside and the light ribbon had somehow flickered, so it had to come from a street light, which meant that the main street was still near. He missed something, it had been taken away but what was it and why did he think his back had to hurt a little bit more just from lying on the ground? The back-pack!

He heard scratching, fingernails on skin; a sound so alive and quiet. He was not alone. But the other made no effort to talk to him or wake him up, so perhaps it was still the same person who had knocked him out. The person who now had his back-pack, but was apparently not just any thief, because a thief would have run off.

An abductor maybe? But they were still at the same spot. So, why... was he waiting for someone? Or something?

Syaoran decided he had no intention of staying long enough to find out. His eyes remained closed but the young man tried to focus on his surroundings, tried to anticipate the localisation of his opponent.

More scratching; accompanied by a bored sigh. It sounded rather close, so the other one was sitting right next to him... to his left. Then Syaoran could hear the guy standing up (maybe to stretch his limbs, who knew?) and take a few steps further away from him. In the blackness behind his eyelids, the young FBI agent could imagine a grey shape about the size of his opponent's silhouette. He jumped back onto his feet and crouched down on the street, pressing his hands on the fresh snow which resulted in quiet cracking noises as the crystals of frozen water were crushed. Syaoran shifted his weight onto his left hand and swung his right leg in a very break-dance like movement in the other boy's direction – to sweep that little brat off his feet.

Syaoron, unlike the others of his kind, had never been trained to fight or use a ranged weapon and this little attack from behind caught him off guard. He felt the force hitting his ankle, stumbled and fell unceremoniously. He was smart enough to drop the object he held in his hand and his outstretched arms saved him from landing flat on his face.
The last thing he needed now was a bleeding nose, thank you very much.
His victim's weapon slithered out of reach beneath a pile of snow and was covered with the white mass until only a black edge of the handle could be seen. He cursed silently as a foot slammed onto his back, trying to hold him in place but the weight too light to disturb his breathing.

"Who are you and what do you want?" his 'brother' demanded to know.

"Seriously, what's your problem, bro?" Syaoron growled, a little bit upset. "I didn't harm you, did I?"
Well, not too much.

Syaoran didn't respond and in the silence, the boy on the ground could hear him breathe. Did he wonder why their voices sounded so alike? Did he wonder why his opponent's hair had suddenly become a few millimetres longer and less tousled? The weight on Syaoron's back disappeared.

"Turn around!" the young agent commanded and he obeyed – rolling onto his back and flashing his 'other self' an impish grin. "Hi, Syaoran!"

"What the–urgh!" The human's eyes widened before he simply dropped on the side, hands shielding the sensitive part between his legs, where Syaoron had kicked him. The shapeshifter came to his feet and hasted for the pile of snow in which the gun had disappeared. As his fingertips touched the handle, a shadow fell on his face… and Syaoron froze in motion. There was someone on the street. A blond stranger with a waste bag in his hand and ragged slippers on his feet, but despite that his appearance was neat. He had probably just sneaked out his apartment to get rid of his waste and noticed the noise that their little altercation had caused.

"Syaoran-kun, is that you?" the stranger softly asked. "Are you alright? You're all covered in snow." He took a few steps closer; the halogen lamps illuminated both his hair and his skin with a golden shimmer. But what was really paralysing Syaoron was the pair of radiant blue eyes that seemed to glow – even in the dark.

The look he received from them was so gentle he could hardly breathe.

He was from New York – everyone there was busy and never gentle, except for his father, and a sudden flash of homesickness captured him. Then those eyes trailed to the other; the real Syaoran, and widened with confusion.

"I-I'm not… He's…" Syaoron stumbled over his words as they tried to voice out an explanation before his brain could come up with one. "We were robbed; me and my brother. He had picked me up from the airport and we were almost at his place when these guys appeared – he tried to fight them but they outnumbered us and they stole my luggage. Do you know my brother?"

"I'm his neighbour. Yuui de Fluorite, apartment 4B." the blond stated absent-mindedly, walking over to the young man who was still lying curled on the floor. He patted Syaoran's shoulder affectionately. "Tsk, tsk. Must be quite embarrassing for a FBI agent to be defeated by a group of ordinary criminals," he added with a small chuckle.

Syaoron used the opportunity to pick up the weapon and point the barrel at Yuui's neck.

Eye witnesses were a problem. And problems he should get rid of.

Still, there was something so very vulnerable about the sight of the blond's exposed neck - Yuui wasn't wearing a scarf, what kind of fool went out the door without a scarf when it was cold enough to freeze of the balls of a brass monkey? - that reminded him how

(irreplaceable)

breakable these humans were. If he released the safety trigger and drove a bullet right into this man's spine… Syaoron imagined the blond head falling back as the torso pushed forward, as the bullet tore its way through flesh and bone, spraying and splattering blood, the watery red

(not silver; organic; alive; natural…)

juice that was made of haemoglobin and smelt of copper. Those blue eyes would lose their glow and become hazy; and no one would ever receive that gentle look anymore. Gentle like father's hugs…

He couldn't do it.

Syaoron lowered the weapon. He told himself that not shooting this man didn't necessarily mean he was too soft, but a dead body would cause more problems than it solved and he had no intention of drawing attention just yet, especially after he had screwed up the first part of his plan so well. There had to be another way.

He stuffed the weapon in the inside pocket of his coat and grinned as if nothing had happened. Grinned maybe a little too much but who cared? He could blame it on the shock of almost being killed or something similar. Human society was pretty much built upon lies; if men were not so eager to believe every lie they'd been told, the world would not be as peaceful as it was (onthisside, Syaoron would add), so he put his faith in lying.

"I'm just glad that they didn't steal brother's back-pack as well. I'd freak out if they had taken the apartment keys." the shapeshifter muttered.

The only risk was Syaoran. If the young federal agent decided to disagree, he was screwed. But somehow he could tell that, as long as there was a bystander, the other wouldn't dare to attack him openly. Because-

("Your brother was a good boy", Fujiktaka said and ruffled his second son's hair, a son who had been born as a young man.)

Syaoran was a good boy and would sensibly avoid collateral damage, regardless of how small.

Yuui looked from one Syao-boy to the other with a half-dreamy, half-concerned look, and whenever their glances met, Syaoron felt like he was being X-rayed by those blue, gem-like irises. He had once seen a mineral with this colour, in a museum he had visited with father. Something with D…

Dumortierite. The part of him that was entirely inhuman planted the word callously into his mind, treating it as what it was: data.[2] Has a calming and relaxing effect on people. Oh, right, he hadn't seen it in a museum but in one of these New Age shops that seemed to spread faster than the MacRonald's fast food restaurants since the appearances of the wormho-

Can help to focus one's thoughts, to fight stress, necessities, fear and panic; can make it easier to make and keep friendships.

Being interrupted by one's own thoughts could be freaking annoying.

"Let's get in, before you freeze to death." the blond decided.

Yuui was one of those careless guys. The kind of man who was nice and unnecessarily eager to help up to an amount that was surely unhealthy when he got in contact with the wrong people. Syaoron felt no need to complain, though. He had been offered a towel to dry his hair and a hot chocolate to 'recover from the shock' as the blond had called it. Meanwhile, his dear twin was in his own apartment to get some dry clothing for both of them. It was obvious that the FBI junior agent was torn between the urge to bury him under a pile of questions and beat him up, but as long as he was close to Yuui, Syaoron was sure that his doppelganger would do neither. Syaoron was also sure that his nice host was irritated by him from the way Yuui nibbled on his lower lip while thinking, and the way his index finger trailed the rim of his own coffee cup in slow circles.

"It's funny, you know", Yuui sad with a chuckle that sounded odd to the shapeshifter's ears, but he couldn't quite decipher why. "Syaoran's never mentioned that he has a brother."

Disappointment? Sadness? But not suspicion. Syaoron sipped on his hot chocolate and avoided answering, expecting the taller to continue. They usually continued when confronted with silence. As the first drops of the dark brown drink hit his tongue, Syaoron shuddered, overwhelmed by the richness of the flavour and the consistency. Rich, strong and creamy; sweet but not unpleasantly, just enough sugar to even out the bitterness of the cocoa. The chocolate flavoured milk he used to drink at home was nothing compared to this theobromine-loaded pudding-drink that made his papillae tingle and his heart beat faster.

"On the other hand, he doesn't talk a lot about his family, anyway. I've heard that he moved here after his- your father died."

Syaoron's hands clutched around the cup and he was very aware of the eyes scanning his face for some kind of reassurance – fatherwasdead? He felt a sting in his chest, which was silly, because he knew that it wasn't his father Yuui meant, that it was just this world's Fujitaka. Still…

"Do I have to talk about our father?" the brunet asked, a little bit offended, which was to say that he'd prefer not to tackle that subject.

"Not if you don't want to." Yuui replied, letting his eyes wander back to the door for what seemed to be the fiftieth time. There was something so soft and… and… motherly about the man, from his behaviour to the way he stared at the wooden pattern while he waited for Syaoran to return… he seemed to have spawned from the screen of a romantic movie. The kind of man who would prepare breakfast in bed for his beloved and who never forgot anniversaries; yes, he seemed to be so very good up to the core of his nature that Syaoron wondered if Yuui was real. Was he always like that? Or was Syaoran the cause of this, the boy he shared his face with? And if so… what was Syaoran's relationship with this man?

The shapeshifter wanted to groan. He was less than two ours in this universe but the prospect of the sheer amount of things he still had to learn before he could accomplish his mission was suffocating.

"You're not much like your brother, are you?"

"Hm?" Syaoron looked up from his steaming mug and tilted one of his brows up with a quizzical frown. "What makes you say that?"

"You're so quiet. Broody, almost. Syaoran is more out-going and easy to make friends with."

"Oh yeah, he was always like that, even when he was a little kid. I'm more the guy in the background who gets away unseen and plans pranks while the others are playing" Syaoron stated with a grin.

"I have a twin, too. And we're complete opposites. I think people are a bit disappointed when they find out because they think that when we look the same-"

"-you think alike? Have a soft spot for the same things? I see that often, especially with kids. People like to dress their twin children alike and give them the same toys, only with a different colour so that neither will get jealous of the other sibling's possessions."

"Exactly! On one hand they have trouble regarding us as individuals, and on the other, they complain that they can't tell us apart."

Suddenly, a vague idea occurred in his mind. A row of uncoordinated thoughts, born from Syaoron's attempt to imagine what Yuui's twin might look and be like. Identical twins. Same faces, but different personalities. Two setsof twins… he and Syaoran, and Yuui and his brother… the same yet different… What if Yuui's brother…

"Keep your eyes open when you get in contact with the team", Kyle said. "One of our men – the one who was supposed to infiltrate the FBI – is currently missing. He's sending us proof of life from time to time, but no information on his whereabouts. His serial number is S05-X381 and his last identity was Nakuru Akizuki, female, however it's likely that he's changed, as Akizuki hasn't been spotted in three years. But we know he's still in town. If you find him, you have to inform us on his current name and address, so we can contact him."

Two sets of twins; one human… and one shapeshifter? As he took a few seconds to study the details in Yuui's living room decorations, he realized how stupid that was. First of all, Syaoran wasn't a twin and he – the shapeshifter – had not taken over the identity of "Syaoron" because he was – well, in short terms, he was a special case among his kind.

A regular shapeshifter would not choose a twin as a cover if he has the choice. A family father or a politician, yes, but twins were a risk; too much background data, too many secrets that only they knew because twins lived in their own world. The photos on the shelf held proof of that. They showed Yuui and his mirror image, sometimes with adults (one seemed to be a teacher, the others their parents) or kids, youngsters of the same age but never could he spot a picture of only one of them. No pictures with girlfriends – remnants of long broken relationships or signs of current ones. Which meant that either Yuui lived like a monk (well, looking at the man that wasn't such a ridiculous idea; he surely looked like a saint) or the bond to his brother was stronger than any of a romantic nature could be. Humans depended on bonds. And one had to understand them to live among them, unnoticed, unmarked as alien.

"So, you're here to visit your brother?" Yuui tapped on the back of Syaoron's hand and chuckled as it caused a flinch. This was a rather decent way to ask for someone's attention, but held also a hint of intimacy that Syaoron found very irritating.

"Actually, it seems like I have to stay here longer than I originally intended."
"Really? I apologize for being blunt, but are you interested in a part-time job?"

A job? It was a commitment that would distract him from his order… on the other hand it was a bond, right? One more obstacle that would keep Syaoran from kicking him out of the apartment or driving a bullet into his head. Speaking of the devil…

A soft (and unnecessary) knock on the unlocked door made them aware of Syaoran's return and as the young man entered, his 'twin' wondered how these two guys could survive in a world where only the strongest and most reckless were triumphant. They seemed to be too polite for their own good – the brunet because this just seemed to be the way he was and the blond even more so, though his motivation appeared not to be strictly altruistic (Syaoron concluded as he watched Yuui's face light up the moment Syaoran stepped into the room, announcing that he had put a stack of clothing on his sofa for his brother to change).

"Ah, Syaoran-kun, you're just in time. I have offered your brother a job but then I remembered that the "Cat's Eye" is still locked down thanks to someone. You don't know when I get my keys back, do you?"

"Erm…" He scratched his head, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry about that. We're done with the investigation, but there's still a lot of paperwork to do until the case is closed. But I'm sure you can get back to work within the next week. If you want, I'll talk to Kurogane-san about that matter."

"Ah, that won't be necessary. We won't bother AgentSuwa" – Syaoron didn't miss the hint of malice in those words – "with my mundane problems since he's such an awfully busy man."

"May I ask what happened?" Syaoron inserted, more interested in the FBI-affairs than he wanted to show and faced two amber orbs, identical to his own.

"Actually…"

"Syaoran, regarding the fact that the incident was in the media, there's no need to worry about giving away some information, right?" Yuui asked, misinterpreting the reason for the young agent's hesitation. Syaoran nodded, but he was far from being happy.

"Right. Yuui's Café has been the scene of a crime. A terroristic attack."

"You mean a bombing?"

"No, chemical weapons. Twelve customers died, along with two of my employees. It was… it was creepy. They started to cough and before I noticed that something was wrong they collapsed." Blue eyes clouded with the memory, their radiance fading with the blonde's smile.

"Wait, you were there when it happened? Wow, you got lucky, huh?"

"I wouldn't call it lucky, but…" Yuui looked to Syaoran, who shook his head. "Well, who knows? Syaoran, do you want a cup of hot chocolate?"

The not-so-subtle change of subject made Syaoron smirk inwardly.

Secrets.

He loved secrets. And riddles. Puzzles of all forms and kinds. And it was funny how obvious these two were, regarding that one of them was a FBI-agent.

"I think we've made enough use of your hospitality. And there are some things my brother and I have to talk about" Syaoran retorted, mustering up a smile. Unlike his… 'copy' he was unaware how disappointed his dear neighbour was when he denied the invitation, nor did he realize the reason for it.

"Oh, I see. Well, then… have a nice evening. And feel free to stop by whenever you like."

"Oh, we will" Syaoron assured with a wicked grin. Hell, he would make sure they could see each other quite often because he burned with the question how long it would take for his 'brother' to realize he had a secret admirer. Thiscouldbefun,afterall.

One night, one conversation. Two boys, one human and one not quite so.

"Who are you?" was the first question the human asked. "You… you're the same; the one who attacked me, right? Why did you do that? And why do you look different now?"

So many questions, so many possible answers… Opportunities to spread truths and lies. Truth was a funny thing: it could be counted. There was always an amount of n + 1 versions of the truth; the one absolute truth which was unchangeable and the subjective versions of the truth (n being the number of individuals involved) that were born from the facts and lies that the human mind accepted to be true.

The not-so human boy held back his laughter because he could tell that this would make his opposite even more anxious than he already was. And he remembered the two essential rules of conversing. First: Start with the truth and present the facts quick and straight to the point. Second: Always be specific when you lie. [3]

"Yes, I was the one who knocked you out. Sorry for that, there was no alternative. I didn't mean to seriously hurt you. That's not what I'm here for." To prove his good attentions Syaoron retrieved the weapon from the pocket of his soaked coat and handed it to its owner. "The thing is, I was told that most people aren't very fond of you if try to steal their… face, you know?"

Lie #1. No one has ever told him this because shapeshifters didn't care about the humans whose appearance they took over. His kind were spies and thieves; by killing their victim and stealing their identity, they took life in more than just one way. Therefore, Syaoron could not risk revealing the nature of his existence to Syaoran.

"As for the question of who I am and why I'm here… I was named Syaoron by my father. He's not my biological father, you know. I was born to replace the son he had lost. Therefore, I had to look like his son as well."

"What… wait, you're talking about me?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible. My father died when I was seventeen. And he never lost me in any way."

Was it envy or sadness that sank its sharp fangs in Syaoron's soul (if a being like him indeed had a soul)? Which truth could hurt more: that Syaoran would always be the beloved one; the one to make father proud and happy, regardless of which world he existed in? Or that father was dead? Even if this world's Fujitaka wasn't Syaoron's father, both men were… alike. Alike, but not the same because their universes were twins, not just alternate worlds but alternate realities.

"He's not dead. Not in the world where I come from."

"You're from another world?"

"Yes."

"In a world where I'm…" Syaoran's words trailed off as he figured out what it meant to have lost a son, facing the information he had just been given. "I'm dead?"

"Yes. The alternate you."

Lie #2.

Syaoran hadn't made his decision on whether or not to believe this stranger yet. He was merely asking these questions to make sure he understood every aspect before he made his decision. "If you're from another world, how did you get here?"

"There was… there are places where my universe and yours are so close that they almost touch each other. We call those places soft spots. And sometimes, a soft spot becomes a crack and one is able to get to the other side. But once I was on this side the crack closed, so I'm pretty much stuck here until I find a way back home."

"Won't your father miss you?" Syaoran suddenly asked and that was when the shapeshifter knew that the human would believe his words.

"No, I don't think so. He doesn't miss me. He's missing you. The other you." (This was not true but it was no lie either, for Syaoron really believed this.) "But still, he's my father and I love him. I would do anything for him." (Which was entirely true; even though it should have been a lie for a shapeshifter).

The young man sighed "Alright."

"What? You believe me? Just like that? Not that I'm complaining, but to you this might sound like a science fiction, or a fantasy novel."

"Well, it does", Syaoran admitted, "But trust me, I have a really weird job and 'unbelievable' is a very relative term."

Really… what was a visitor from another world compared to using pigeons to track down a suspect, or cat-sized flu viruses, or a chemical compound which could be modified to kill only people with certain genes – women or brown-eyed people or the entire maternal side of a family – and damn those to watch, who were lacking the predisposition.

The owner of the "Cat's Eye" Café hadn't been lucky in surviving. He was lucky that his eyes were blue.

Compared to this madness and the needless killing, the story of a man who crossed worlds to become someone his father might love more was almost heart-warming.

In the end, a new bond was formed. Syaoran agreed – without being asked for it – that they could pretend to be twins until Syaoron had found a way to get back home. He believed the other one but didn't entirely trust him, so he figured that keeping the guy close to him was the easiest way to keep an eye on Syaoron.

However, he had no idea that he was the one who had been (and still was) watched and spied on, long before his 'copy' had appeared.

[1] Più è grande e meno si vede. A riddle from the Italian movie "La vita é bella". The answer is l'oscurità – darkness.

[2] For those who are not familiar with Fringe: shapeshifters have two mass storage devices, an organic one (the brain) and an artificial one (like the hard drive of a computer). I have no idea how they interact with each other, and well, no one knows how it's like to be in a shapeshifter's mind so I just make up stuff here. My theory is that there is some basic data on the hard drive like emergency protocols that every shapeshifter gets and that also new information can be stored there, mainly information for the job that they have to do so even if they get killed, one can get access to what they've gathered so far. In this case I wanted to show that the process of data saving is not entirely controllable so that there is some junk data on the hard drive but on the other hand it's easier for the brain to get access to the data on the hard drive than remember something.

[3] Gibbs Rule No. 7

Another note on Dumortierite: I know that the gem has a dark blue colour but the mineral usually is a lighter shade of blue which would match Yuui's eyes.

Coming soon: next chapter we get to know the team a little better and then you may understand why Yuui's not that fond of Kurogane. XD And please don't kill me for the fact that Yuui has an affection for Syaoran. Or that I changed some of the family relations. Like the fact that Fujitaka is Syaoran's biological father. The Syao-kun's last name will still be "Li" (after their mother) and Sakura's father will be neither Fujitaka nor Clow.

I can assure you that this is causing me as much headache to me as it does to you, maybe even more because I was the one to come up with a way to insert the CLAMP characters into the Fringe setting. (For example: I had to split up the role of "Walter Bishop" and adapted it to Clow and Fujitaka. Regarding that Clow himself divided in Fujitaka and Eriol in CCS, I figured it was okay to do that).