Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all goes to Bisco Hatori and all the people who will sue me if I claim otherwise.

AN: 6/26 Thank you, everybody! Thank you so much for all the reviews and the favorite authors/stories, and all the hits, and all the alerts, and just everything in general! I'm so flattered. You guys are great. Also, I forgot to put down a translation last chapter for Tamaki's French, so here it is: "We left her. I can't believe we left her. It's all my fault. My fault." So there we are! Enjoy!

Chapter Five

Tamaki rolled over, trying to escape the sun shining down from the window. He could see it through his closed eyelids, bright red and very annoying. He should have closed the curtains last night. He was so tired. His legs felt like lead, and he thought that he wouldn't have the strength to move them at all. His whole entire body was aching, but none more so than that little organ in his chest. Every beat seemed to pull at the wound, stretching it taught, only making it hurt worse. Tamaki pressed his face into his pillow. He was so exhausted, and he didn't really want to get up today, but the sun was shining, and his mind was clearing despite his silent protests. He vaguely registered an irregular pattern of tapping, and he felt a weight on his skins accompanied by a tingling feeling down at his feet.

He opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a very small blonde boy. Tamaki reeled back, nearly falling off the bed before he steadied himself and looked at the boy. Hunny was lying in the middle of the bed, his thumb in his mouth and his arm curled around a small throw pillow. He looked so angelic in sleep, but his eyes were tight and rolling madly behind his closed eyelids. Tamaki let out the breath he had been holding and settled back down on his pillow and looked around. The rest of the club was on the overly large bed too. Mori was lying horizontally across the end of the bed, his long legs spilling over Tamaki's side of the bed. He slept on his back, his arms crossed over his chest as though he were lying in a coffin. Tamaki shivered at the image. Hikaru and Kaoru were lying next to the tall third year, and Tamaki realized that the weight on his legs was Kaoru's head, using his shin as a pillow. Next to him, but lying in the opposite direction was Hikaru, who was using Kyouya's legs as a pillow. The raven-haired boy was sitting upright, back against the headboard. His fingers pounded mercilessly against the keys on the keyboard.

"You're up early," Tamaki whispered over Hunny's head.

Kyouya shook his head. "It's 8pm in Tokyo right now. I'm just jetlagged."

Tamaki ran a hand through his hair. 8pm. They had already spent a whole day not knowing anything about Haruhi. He forced the thought away and instead said, "We've been asleep that long?"

Kyouya nodded. "And your son," he gestured toward Hikaru's head with annoyance, "is blocking off my circulation."

Tamaki gave give a tiny grin, but he didn't laugh. He understood why his best friend, who had avoided the familial ties that he'd been forging for two years now, was suddenly using them openly. Kyouya was just as shaken up about yesterday's events as the rest of them, and although he was now trying his best not to show it, Tamaki knew that the vice president was trying to find some solidarity, something real to connect with. And at that moment, that something just happened to be the Host Club.

He frowned at the laptop. "Where did you get that?" he asked pointing at it.

"The jet had one on it," was Kyouya's reply. The typing didn't slow down. "I decided to conduct some research on it."

Tamaki's heart rate started to pick up. He lifted himself to his elbows, and his voice rose a bit in his urgency. "Did you find anything on-" he trailed off as Hunny shifted in his sleep. He froze and stared at the little blonde boy, who groaned a bit before his body stilled. A small hand found the fabric of his pajama arm.

Kyouya's fingers careened to a halt on the keyboard. "Haruhi?" he whispered. Tamaki nodded, and Kyouya let out a heavy sigh. His voice was weighted as he spoke. "No. Not yet, at least."

Tamaki's face fell, and he lowered himself onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. An elegant chandelier hung above him, sunlight reflecting off its crystals and dancing around the room. It was kind of pretty, he thought absentmindedly, trying to keep the thought of Haruhi away from his mind. He'd surely cry if he allowed himself to think of her cute, short brown hair and her large eyes and her adorable bluntness and the way she smiled and her heart-stopping recklessness and her smart head crashing against the ground.

If only he hadn't been so stupid! If only he had just held on to her hand. He remembered her voice. "Don't let go!" Yet he had. He had dropped her. He had promised to always be there for her, and when it really mattered, he had let her fall. Oh, God, it was all his fault. All his fault that she had been left behind. All his fault that she had gotten hurt. All his fault if she had...

"Tamaki." Tamaki turned his head and realized that he had silent tears running down his face. He could taste their saltiness on his lips. Kyouya was staring intently at him. The boy leaned over Hunny until his face was inches away from Tamaki's, and he had no choice but to look through the lenses of his best friend's glasses and meet the obsidian eyes that smoldered with determination. His voice was intense as he said, "I will do everything in my power to find her again. If there is any chance that she is alive, I promise that I will take every shred of evidence and search this entire earth until we find our daughter again."

Tamaki stared at his friend in amazement. "Kyouya," he breathed in astonishment at the power in his friend's words. Suddenly a light yawn met his ears, and he and Kyouya simultaneously looked down at the small boy between them before hurriedly pulling away. Kyouya started typing again.

Hunny slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Good morning," he said in a light, sleepy voice. "Hm. I guess we all fell asleep in your room then, didn't we, Tama-chan?"

Tamaki laughed nervously and sat up, pondering the wonders of jetlag. To have calmed both AB bloods was simply remarkable. "It's all right, Hunny-senpai. I didn't mind."

Kyouya closed his laptop with a click and stood, tucking it under the crook of his arm. "Well, now that you're awake, Hunny-senpai, it would probably be best to wake the rest of them." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose walked out of the room. Tamaki stared after him until the door closed and turned back to the rest of the sleeping club.

"Well, senpai, I guess that means we're supposed to do that," Tamaki laughed, rubbing his hands together. He heard no response. "Senpai?" The door closed. Tamaki sighed.

It took several minutes to awaken the rest of the club. Once he had gotten them up and out of his room, it seemed a bit empty. He knew that his room back at the Second Suoh mansion was much larger, but he had never felt lonely in it.

Tamaki sighed and opened the large walk in closet that Renge had shown him last night before he had collapsed in his bed. Inside, suit jackets, button downs, and slacks lined the walls in their hangers, and sitting nicely folded on some of the shelves were various other articles of clothing including sweaters, undershirts, shoes, ties, and underwear. He absentmindedly chose a white button down shirt and a red sweater. They were the most comfortable looking out of all the clothing, and Tamaki didn't really feel like dressing up. He noticed with surprise that they all fit perfectly. Although he supposed it did make sense. Renge was the manager of the Host Club after all. She probably had their measurements somewhere, and based off of yesterday's reception, she had been working her staff to the bone until they had arrived. He remembered how they had arrived at the mansion at midnight (thanks to the Housakuji driver), and the entire staff had been awake and present, although more than a little bit tired. It was as though they hadn't gotten any sleep within the previous twenty four hours, which now that he thought about it, was probably the case. He chuckled a bit as he pulled on his shoes. Never disobey the Lady Meanager.

He left the room and closed the door behind him. Four identical clicks followed after that, and he blinked, seeing the rest of the club exiting their rooms at the exact same time. They all looked at each other and giggled nervously before starting to walk down the long, ornate hallways. Kyouya fell into step with him, while Hikaru and Kaoru fell into step behind them, and Mori and Hunny took the rear. Kyouya still had his computer underneath his arm.

"So where can we get some food around here?" Hikaru asked, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," Kaoru said, "I'm starving."

Tamaki spun around. He still felt rather sorry for the servants. "Doppelgangers! Don't be so rude! We're the ones who intruded and-" a loud rumbling interrupted him. He looked down at his stomach in dismay. It had never made that kind of a noise before. Maybe he was ill! Oh, God, he had never been sick before! His body was making odd noises!

"That's normal, Tamaki," Kyouya said in exasperation, having anticipated the approaching outburst. He addressed the rest of the club. "There should be some servants down stairs. Somebody will know where to get something to eat."

"Yay!" Hunny cried. "Cake!" But Tamaki noticed with worry that the small boy was a little too enthusiastic. He looked down at Hunny, watching him skip down the hallway. His smile was wide and reached his eyes, but it seemed a little bit pinched and forced. He rose an eyebrow at Mori, who caught his eye. The gentle giant nodded at him, and Tamaki smiled and turned around, knowing that he had gotten the message. Mori would take care of it. While he cared a lot for the third-year, he knew that the boy's cousin would be best for this. Those two seemed to understand each other on a deeper level. Mori knew Hunny better than anybody, and Hunny knew Mori better than anybody. It wouldn't be good for him to interfere unless they needed him to.

"I've conducted some research," Kyouya said, interrupting his musings. The club looked at the black-haired teen, giving him all their attention. "So far, I've been able to assess each of our financial standings and the welfare of the majority of our families."

The last part of the speech troubled them. "Erm, senpai?" Kaoru asked, tentatively.

"What do you mean by the majority of our families?" Hikaru questioned in the same tone. Both twins joined hands.

"Precisely what I said," Kyouya responded. They started to descend a massive staircase. A multitude a voices echoed throughout the lower levels. The club pondered those words. The majority of their families. That had to mean that some didn't survive. Was he referring to just Haruhi, or did he mean that there were more missing? Although Tamaki was an outcast in the Suoh family, he still hoped that they were all right. His mind leapt to a certain group of people.

"Kyouya, our servants!" he cried urgently.

Kyouya adjusted his glasses, hiding his eyes behind the glare. "I think it might be best if we eat something before I divulge that information," he simply said, but there was something in his voice that worried Tamaki. Kyouya was trying to avoid something.

Tamaki's brow narrowed. "Kyouya," he said, but his eyes widened in surprise as somebody else yelled "Kyouya!" at the same time he said it. The Host Club had reached the last landing of the magnificent staircase, which was coated with a red carpet leading down to the foyer of the house. And standing just inside the front door was…

"Father?" both Kyouya and Tamaki gasped at the same time, for at the end of the room stood two very familiar men. Yoshio Ootori and Yuzuru Suoh gazed up at them from the bottom floor. Their faces both displayed surprise and shock, and Tamaki was sure that he and his best friend looked exactly like their parents at that point. The four of them stared at each other.

"Well, isn't this interesting," Tamaki vaguely registered Hikaru saying.

"I daresay it is, dear brother," Kaoru answered.

Suddenly, light footsteps tapped against the outside steps. The silhouette of a small woman slowly began to appear, standing out against the brilliant French sunlight.

"Oh, no," Hunny whimpered, his smile falling from his face to be replaced by a worried expression.

"You've got to be kidding me," the twins muttered.

Tamaki's jaw dropped. "Grandmother?" he gasped, watching the old woman enter the house.

She had two bodyguards behind her, and the mansion doors closed with a boom, like an omen. Her grey hair was pulled back in an elaborate bun, and her pinched, cold face twisted with scorn as she raised her head to look at the group at the top of the staircase. Her upper lip curled, and her cold eyes narrowed as they locked on her grandson. "Oh, God, you're here?" she said, her voice riddled with disdain.

Tamaki saw Kyouya frown and take a step forward. "Yes, he's here," his best friend growled at the old woman.

"Kyouya!" Ootori scolded.

"Father!"

Another pair of quick, light footsteps echoed through out the foyer. Renge burst into the large space of no-man's land and looked around, turning her head back and forth in confusion. "Just what is going on in here?" her high-pitched voice demanded as she placed her hands on her hips.

Behind her, more footsteps followed. When the owner came into sight, Tamaki nearly fell on the floor. He felt Mori reach forward and grab his elbow to stable him, but he ignored the third year and stared at the woman before him. His felt a sharp ache in his chest at the sight of her. The long blonde hair that flowed down her back. The slim body, clothed in a simple pink dress. The pale skin and her violet eyes. His violet eyes. She looked up at him and covered her mouth, tears running down her face.

"Oh, my God," Yuzuru Suoh breathed.

"You're here too?" Tamaki heard his grandmother cry, but he ignored her. The two blondes just stared at each other

It took a few tries of opening and closing his mouth before he was able to speak. "M-Mother?" he choked.

...

The girl stared at the building in front of her. If it can be called that, she thought. It's hardly a building. The shack before her looked like it was falling apart. The shutters were practically falling apart, and graffiti marred nearly every surface of the dull gray exterior. The paint of the rickety wooden door looked like it had been worn away long ago. The roof didn't look very sturdy either, and there was no visible heating system from where she was standing. The gate swung with the wind, creaking ominously. Nailed against it was a sign that said "Orphanage 3."

The girl shivered in her light clothing. It was by no means fit for the snowy winter weather. She hugged her arms around her tighter and tucked her hands underneath her armpits. Her gloves were missing a few fingers, but that didn't really matter considering the material didn't provide much protection in the first place. She had a worn scarf wrapped around her neck and a second hand newsboy cap resting on her head. Her jacket was rather big for her, which might have been an advantage if it were not riddled with holes that let the frigid air enter and chill her body. The dress she wore was much too short, only reaching halfway up her thigh, and she thanked the powers that be that the nurse had been able to secure an extra pair of pants to wear underneath. The only decent item she had to protect her from the elements was the pair of shoes that the hospital had decided to keep from the outfit she had worn before she'd been admitted. Whatever that was. She closed her eyes trying to remember again but opened them as she heard footsteps.

The nurse walked up to her from the car, carrying her small bag. She knew that there were only a few outfits in there. That was all the hospital could spare. The nurse gave her a sharp nudge in between the shoulder blades. This one was much less nice than the one that had helped her the last few days. "Come on, now," the nurse said. "You can't stand there all day."

The girl looked up at the building again. "Kill me," she said faintly.

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid." She gave the girl a harder shove, sending her stumbling in the direction of the building. "Now you remember you're name, yes?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Which one? The real one, or the one you gave me a minute to choose?" The nurse glared at her, and she sighed. "Rene." It was the first thing that had come to her mind when she had been pressed for a name in the hospital. She had to chose something, and Rene, although she knew that it wasn't familiar enough to be her name, had been something that she knew she'd heard before. It sounded like roses and happiness.

The nurse sighed. "Say it like you mean it at least. Do you want to go back to the hospital?"

"It looks much nicer than here."

The nurse slammed the bag into Rene's chest, and she staggered at the weight. "Come on." They walked through the rickety gate and up the chipped stone pathway. Rene looked around the lot. It really was a ramshackle place. She started when she saw a face in the window. It was a teenager that didn't look much older than her. The curtain dropped, and the boy's face disappeared. They reached the door, and the nurse knocked.

Rene took a deep breath. Here we go. The door opened, and she nearly took off running then. Standing on the threshold of the door was a filthy, dirty man. He appeared to be in his late forties with an unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. In his hand was an open brown bottle, and Rene didn't want to even think about what was inside that. His clothing was just as ragged as hers, but his had stains adorning it, and they looked like they had been put on with much less care. The man glared down at her and grunted. "Another one?"

The nurse gave her another shove, and Rene glared at her before entering the house. The inside was falling apart just as badly as the outside was, and it was rather filthy. Dirt was everywhere she looked. The first floor was tiny, with a small television resting upon a dark black table and a few mismatched chairs surrounding it. A walk in kitchen was cramped to the left of the room, and the sink was overflowing with bottles similar to the one the man held in his hand. There was a single door at the far side of the room, and to the right, a wooden staircase disappeared into a square whole in the ceiling.

Kill me now, she repeated silently.

As she looked around, the nurse and the caretaker continued talking. "So I guess nobody showed up for her at the hospital, eh?" the caretaker chuckled to himself as though it was something funny.

"Nope, and get this: she can't remember anything," the nurse whispered, and Rene rolled her eyes at the woman's "attempt" to be quiet.

"What, is she retarded?"

Rene spun around, annoyed. "You know, I'm right here." She suddenly felt something collide with the side of her face, and she stumbled. She clutched her face, knowing that there was a red mark adorning her cheek. Her mind was in shock. She had just been hit! The caretaker was standing in front of her, his drunken eyes mad and unfocused.

He took a sip from the bottle. "Yer to show some respect around here," he slurred angrily. He poked her hard in the shoulder. "You live under my house now, and you will follow all my rules if you don't want some more of that. Understand?" She glared at him, and he shook her hard enough to snap her head back. "Got me? Answer, girl."

She pulled herself out of his grasp and stood still for a few seconds before bowing her head. "Yes, I've got you," she growled.

The caretaker nodded in approval. "The rest of the kids are upstairs. Why don't you go make some friends?" he said, a chuckle in his voice that turned the nice comment into something mocking and mean.

Rene swung her bag over her shoulders and began to climb the staircase with her head held high.

"Quite the fancy pants, isn't she?" she heard the caretaker say with disdain before she disappeared entered the doorway.

Once she was out of sight, she leaned against the ugly, mustard colored wallpaper that coated the walls. This was going to be all kinds of fun. She carefully touched the place where she'd been hit and winced. That was going to bruise. At least I know that I wasn't abused before I lost my memories," she thought with a little bit of comfort. Such a action wouldn't have left her so shocked and so surprised if it was something that occurred often. She looked at her dirty, ragged surroundings with trepidation. There were holes in the ceiling. And that this kind of place wasn't normal for me. She let this comfort her for a moment.

She reached down her shirt and pulled the necklace out of her front. She squeezed the vase pendant, feeling its edges digging into her skin. It was still warm from being pressed against her chest. She closed her eyes and dug through her mind. Where could I have gotten this? Who could have given it to me? The information was there, she knew it. She could feel it as though it were hiding from her in a really obvious place. Like a math problem that seemed impossibly difficult, but after the first few difficult steps, the answer was easily attainable.

That was one of the strange thing about her amnesia. She remembered a lot, like the date, current events, and academic information. She'd realized that during the hospital when the nurses and doctors had been treating her, and she had been able to follow and understand everything that they said and did. After that, it had been easy to recall various pieces of information such as history, math, and language arts. The only things she had issues remembering were personal things. Where she'd come from. The people in her life. Who she was. Her name. Basically, everything that made up her past. She felt tears begin to spring up in her eyes, but she wiped them away furiously. This was not a time to feel sorry for herself. Her goal right now was to figure out a way to find her memories. Getting emotional wasn't going to help anybody.

Suddenly a door burst open, and her eyes opened wide at the sound. She quickly shoved the golden chain back in her shirt before turning to see the teenage boy from the window at the end of the small hallway. Behind him, kids of all ages were curiously looking through the doorway. He had mousey brown hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. He had dirt all over his face, and his clothing was several sizes too small, stretching around his body, which Rene noticed was tall and muscular. He had small, rat-like eyes that glared at her underneath his bangs.

He looked her up and down, and Rene resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her body and shield herself from his gaze. She clenched her fists and raised her chin, looking at him right in the eye.

"Seems like we've got a new kid, Ern!" he called back into the room he had just exited.

Another teenager shoved his way through, and this one had a mixture of brown and blonde hair. Ern was much more wiry than the other boy, although he was just as filthy. His clothing was much loser around his frame, and he tossed an apple in the air and took a bite while he leaned against he wall. "Seems like we do, Jakkasu," he said around the mouthful of apple.

The one called Jakkasu walked over and circled her. He had terrible posture, all hunched over. "So, you've got a name girl?" he asked, and Rene noticed the leer in the boy's voice.

Rene looked at him coldly. "Rene." She bowed. She didn't want to, but something within her made her do so. Hm. So I'm naturally polite, she pondered. She straightened up. "And I would greatly appreciate it if you could please stop circling me like that," she said, ice in her voice.

Jakkasu threw his head back in laughter. It sounded like a barking dog. "She's a walking priss!" He turned back to Ern. "Look at her! Stands like a priss, talks like a priss, she's even prissy as a bitch!" Ern joined in on the laughter.

Rene rose her eyebrows. "I beg your pardon!"

"Ooooh," Ern mocked putting a hand against his chest in fake fear. "She begs our pardons, ohoho. Funny!"

"Let me tell you something, princess," Jakkusa said, crossing his arms. "I'm the head dog around here. Right after Biru down there. You met him, big drunk, sooner slap you around like the bitch you are than feed you? That's him, and I'm the favorite. So a little word of advice." He leaned in, and Rene struggled to hold her ground. "Please me, you get on my good side. Get on my good side, and you get on Biru's good side. Get on my bad side, and," he shrugged, "well, a pretty little priss like you wouldn't want that, eh? So…" he wrapped an arm around her waist. "what do ya say?" Rene felt him squeeze her butt.

She gasped and pulled away. "How dare you?" She raised a hand and slapped him. Barely a second after that, a hand shot out and grabbed her windpipe. She felt herself slam against the wall, and her hands grabbed the one holding her neck, trying to get it off.

Jakkusa leaned in. "You little bitch," he hissed in her face, and Rene nearly gagged at his foul breath. "You think you're so high and mighty because you used to be rich. But let me tell you, you're not in that little world anymore. So drop the high class manners and the 'I beg your pardons'," he sneered. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't exactly like the rest of us." He dropped her, and she fell to the floor gasping.

The rest of the kids had already left the hallway, and Jakkusa was nearly in the room when Rene gasped, "You're wrong." He turned around. Rene raised herself to her knees and looked at the boy with utter loathing. "I am nothing like you."

Jakkusa chuckled darkly. "Then tell me this, priss. What makes you so sure? You're wearing the clothes. You look the part. You have no money, and you were thrown here. Forgotten. You have no family. What makes you think that you're not just as filthy, if not more so, than the rest of us?"

Rene rose to her feet. "Because I do have a family," she said, raising her chin again. Inside, her mind was in overdrive. Where did that come from? I have no family. But something inside her told her that that was not the case. She felt like she was lying. Or do I…

Meanwhile, Jakkusa rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You're right. You're not like us. You're mentally retarded!" he guffawed as he entered the room where all the other children were getting ready for bed, and Rene felt her shoulders slump.

So this is how it's going to be for awhile, she mused as she too entered the room. It was no nicer than the rest of the house. In fact it was probably the worst room there. Along two walls were rows of mattresses that laid on the floor amid the dust. They were all old and torn and thoroughly disgusting. Rene saw an empty one at the far side of the room. She began to drag her tired body over there, when a foot stuck out, and she toppled face first into the dirty floor.

She heard laughter. "Sweet dreams, priss!" Ern laughed from his bed.

Rene picked herself off of the floor and straightened her dress before continuing on. When she reached the empty mattress, she dropped her small bag on the floor with a thump. A cloud of dust rose with it. She sat on the mattress, drawing her knees up to her chest. She hugged them and laid the side of her head on them, looking out the window. From her angle, she couldn't see any of the burning city or the tanks or the shoulders. All she could see was the bright full moon, which sent a large patch of silver moonlight through the window and across the wooden floor. She smiled a tiny bit despite the frigid cold that made her heart and bones ache. I guess this is what they mean when they say silver lining, she thought sleepily before she laid down and pressed the pendant on her necklace against her throat through the fabric of her chest. She could smell the faint scent of roses before she fell drifted off to sleep.