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

A/N: (7/20) Well, here's my update, finally. Do you ever have those times when you have SO many ideas, but you're not sure how to piece them together? This is what I had with this chapter. I had to go through about 3 drafts before I could make it something that I like, but now I think it's okay. Pretty depressing, but it kind of has to be. It seems sort of filler-ish, but there is some very important information that certain hosts have to get into their heads to make the story work, so bear with me, please. And thanks for all the reviews and just everything! I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think.

Chapter 8

Let your heart guide you. It whispers, so listen carefully- The Land Before Time

When Kyouya opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of a garden, a garden he knew very well. Yes, he had definitely been here before. The large, rustling trees, the bright flowers. He was in the Ootori family garden. It was a place he'd frequented often when he was younger. He regarded his familiar surroundings with confusion. How strange…

The bright sunlight beat down on him, warming his skin, and a slight breeze caressed his pale skin. He closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation, but there was a hollow feeling at the center of his chest, mercilessly assaulting him with each breath. It hurt. It hurt more than anything he had ever felt before. He had never felt so much pain before. You've never lost somebody before, a voice said in the back of his head, and he furiously wiped the tears away from his eyes, but it did very little. They ran like streams from his black orbs, so he let them fall and ignored them.

He opened his eyes again to gaze at the Ootori family garden. Before him, several meters away was a small section of the garden. Small shrubs of roses were gathered in a circle, and their red color made him wince. Red was Haruhi's assigned flora. The pain in his chest once again started to attack him, stabbing at his heart. But before he knew what he was doing, his legs started to carry him over to the flower bed. The red assaulted his retinas.

As he got closer, he could see a small head bobbing up and down behind the shrubs. Kyouya frowned. Who could that be? He slowly and silently crept around the circle of roses until he was at the break of the circle. His eyes widened at the sight. The head belonged to a woman with long black hair that flowed down her back, curling slightly. He could only see the back of her, but Fuyumi had shown him enough pictures of her for him to be able to tell who it was. A beautiful woman with a kind face and smile, which he had apparently inherited. The slim, frail body. A woman who had had the power to melt the heart of the eldest son of the Ootori family, but who had also had the power to destroy him with her death. Death during child birth. His birth. All he had known was coldness in his family, but according to Fuyumi, that wasn't always the case. All the warmth had left with this woman. He stood rooted in place, hardly daring to move.

The woman turned towards him, and he quickly drew in a breath. She was stunning. Her bright green eyes were shining brightly as she gave him a joyous smile, one which had only started to grace his face the last few years. "Hello, darling," she said sweetly, her voice light and musical. Like piano keys.

Kyouya stared at her in wonder and surprise. No, this couldn't be possible… "M-Mother?" he stuttered, his eyes bugging out of his head.

She held out a fragile hand. She looked so small. "Come here, love," she said, and he hesitantly took her hand. She pulled him into the circle, and he sat down beside her on the ground. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He stared at his mother, a woman that he had only spent seconds with before her life was stolen. He couldn't get enough of her angular face and her emerald eyes. He could look at her for forever and be fine.

She ignored his staring, however, and instead gently cupped one of the red roses. She looked at him softly. "Kyouya, dear, what can you tell me about this flower?" she asked as though quizzing him.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion and imitated her, cupping another rose. He felt a sharp pang at the sight of it. "A hybrid tea rose. Black magic to be precise." He went into lecture mode. "They are the newest type of rose, bred by a German company named Tantau, which specializes in roses. I order the Host Club's roses from there. Long, sturdy stems, 30-40 petals, one flower per stem. The bushes tend to grow about 3-4 feet, but under perfect conditions they can hit 6 feet. Disease resistant, require full sun and a lot of care. Symbolically, they represent love, respect, courage, and passion, but this particular type also represents unconscious beauty. All in all," here he felt a blockage in his throat, and it distorted his voice, "a very worthy flower." Now the tears were leaking again. They ran down his cheeks and curved at his chin before falling. They landed on the petals of the rose, leaving a single crystalline drop.

His mother nodded at him, and her eyes held sadness. She laid a hand on his shaking shoulder, and he looked up at her with a devastated face. Her pale face held understanding, and she used her free hand to wipe his tears. "You forgot something," she whispered, and Kyouya's brow furrowed.

"What?"

She pressed her lips against his forehead and gracefully stood up. He looked up at her from his position on the ground. "They're perennials."

"Perennials?"

She nodded, smiling again. She took a pair of scissors out of her pocket and regarded one of the flowers before taking the sharp edges to the stem and clipping it. She held out the rose to her son, who took it like he was in a daze. What could be so important about perennials? "Even though it seems like the flower has wilted away and died, the plant itself is still healthy," she said, a hint in her voice. She winked at him. "They always bloom again in the spring."

He understood that, but he was still confused. It seemed like she was trying to communicate something more to him. He knew that knowing look, it was one that he often employed. But what was she saying? He shook his head. "I don't understand," he whispered, and the woman ran her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes at the loving gesture.

"You will," he heard her say, and then her touch was gone. He opened his eyes in surprise and gasped. She wasn't there. She had disappeared. He couldn't see her anywhere, and he was left alone in the circle of Black Magic rose bushes, holding a single flower.

When Hunny woke up, he was sitting at a table. He looked around in confusion. The table was situated in a dark, cold room. He shivered at the goose bumps that exploded along his flesh. It wasn't a normal kind of cold. It felt supernatural in a way. He couldn't see anything beyond the radius of light that the single light bulb ahead of him shed. He shrank in his chair. He didn't like this place. He didn't like how cold it was or the eeriness. He wanted to be back at Renge's mansion with his friends. He wanted to be back with them.

"Sorry, sorry!" a small voice called out. A tiny body rushed towards the table and leapt into the seat. Hunny's eyes widened like saucers. The boy looked exactly like him. The short height, the small body, the cutesy face, and the honey colored hair. The only difference was that Hunny was clad in only his blue pajamas, while his doppelganger wore a very formal suit with tailcoats. That and a bright pink mask that obscured the top half of his face. The boy grinned at him. "I'm really sorry I'm late!" he cried. He picked up his fork and knife. "But I'm here now!" Two large slabs of strawberry cake suddenly appeared in front of them. The boy broke out into a huge grin. "Cake!"

Hunny's mouth was hanging open from shock. He looked at his companion and at his cake. His companion and the cake. "But- but you're me," he said in his high voice.

The masked boy shook his head energetically. "Nope. I'm a mental representation of you."

"What?"

They boy giggled. "Well, never mind that. Just eat! It's really, delicious." With that, the boy shoveled several large bites into his mouth.

Hunny looked at the cake and felt his stomach churn. He pushed it away from him with two fingers and laid his hands in his lap, looking that the wood of the table with a dejected expression. He'd never eat strawberry cake again. Not after Haru-chan. It felt like his chest was being ripped in half, and he winced at the pain. It wasn't fair. How could she die? How could she be gone? It seemed impossible to him. He couldn't seem to grasp it. Couldn't seem to accept it…

"You're not going to eat your cake?" his doppelganger asked confused. His voice sounded rather pathetic, almost as though he was really upset that he wouldn't eat it. Hunny felt a prick of irritation. Upset because he wouldn't have cake? Really? After today's events, he had no idea how a lack of cake could ever be upsetting. This pain was worse than any sugar craving. It was all consuming, and it burned.

He didn't say any of this though. Instead he muttered. "I'm not hungry."

The boy cocked his head. "But we're always hungry."

Hunny glared at him. "I'm not." He slid off the chair, getting to his feet. "I'm tired of this. I'm going home." He started to walk away.

"But you can't go home!" the boy called from his seat.

Hunny spun around. How dare he? "Watch me," he said, sending a death glare. His doppelganger seemed unaffected by it though.

"No, I mean you need her first."

That hit Hunny. He hung his head, looking at the floor. Every heart beat seemed to pound at his soul. His throat was clogged with tears, making it hard to breathe. He clenched his fists, letting the pain wash over him. It was worse than anything he had ever imagined. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, his body shaking. His hair covered his eyes. "She's gone."

"But what if she isn't?" Hunny's head shot up in shock and confusion. The boy continued to look at him, but he had a serious expression this time. "What if she's still here?"

Hunny ran back to the table and slammed his palms on its surface. Was he saying what he thought he was saying? His heart was beating a rapid tattoo on his chest. He stomach swooped at the implications of the words. Could it be possible? "What are you saying?" Hunny demanded frantically. He leaned across the table until he was inches from the doppelganger's face. "Do you know something?"

A small smile graced his twin's face. "Nothing that you won't figure out soon enough."

A surge of anger rushed through Hunny's body. He took hold of the collar of the boy's white dress shirt and shook him. His face held death. "If you know something about her, I need you to tell me!" he cried, shaking him. "It's a matter of life or death!"

The boy shook his head. "It's not quite at that level. Yet. It will be soon though. So give it your best, yeah? Cause she's going to need you now more than ever."

Hunny felt the frustration itch at his skin. What was going on? "What are you talking about?" Hunny demanded, incredulity lacing his voice. "Hey!"

Suddenly, the boy disappeared. Instead, a swirling mist took his place before dissolving in midair. Hunny gazed at in a dazed comfusion before he felt a hot anger enter his blood. He got to his feet and yelled "Come back!" to the empty room. And with that, he woke up.

Hunny bolted up right in his bed. His breaths came in loud, panicked pants, and he felt like he couldn't get enough air in. Cold sweat ran down his body and stuck his expensive pajamas to his clammy skin. Hunny laid his blonde head in his hands and gently pushed on his eyes. Tiny sparks of assorted colors danced before him before he removed the pressure, but he still kept his face covered.

What kind of dream was that? He was no stranger to nightmares these last few months, but that one…it was so different. He rubbed his temples.

"But what if she isn't? What if she's still here?"

Could it be possible? Was there a chance that Haruhi was actually…alive? He shook his head. No. It couldn't be. Ranka himself had seen the body. He'd killed himself over it. Hunny remembered the gunshot that echoed all across the grounds several hours ago. All the blood. He shivered and felt his stomach churn at the memory.

But what if…What if there was a mistake? What if Ranka had been wrong? They had never gotten the information on how he had seen the body. Sometimes people made errors. Maybe…maybe Ranka had made one.

Hunny mentally slapped himself. No, he was creating a false hope. Denial. That was one of the stages of grief, right? Hunny flung himself back on his back and gazed at the elegant chandelier about him. He could barely see it through the darkness. He was just in denial. Haruhi was dead. Gone. A tear ran down his face.

"But what if she isn't?"

He heard a small creak, and he turned his head. Very slowly, the door to his room opened, and a black head poked itself into his room. It was about to leave, when Hunny whispered, "Kyou-chan?"

Kyouya paused and opened the door a bit wider. He looked awful, Hunny realized. Although, he probably didn't look an different from the rest of them. The desolate expression, the red rimmed eyes, the disorderly appearance. The younger boy pushed his glasses up his nose, but the attempt to hide his eyes with a glare failed in the darkened room. "Oh, senpai," Kyouya said in a surprised tone. His voice sounded heavy as though he had been crying for a long time. He bowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

Hunny shook his head. "You didn't." He looked down at the expensive quilt on his lap. He traced the stitching and didn't look at his friend. "You couldn't sleep either." He said. It wasn't a question.

Kyouya sighed. "Not really." Hunny watched the black haired teenager shiver. "Strange dreams."

"You too?"

Kyouya nodded.

Hunny slid from his bed, and his bare feet touched the cold floor. Not for the first time, he wished that he had his Usa-chan. He'd dropped him during the escape from Ouran, and he missed him terribly. He wanted to throw his arms around something fluffy and warm, something comforting. Kyouya was none of those things.

Kyouya wordlessly opened the door for him, and they left the room. Their rooms were at the end of long, ornately decorated hallway. The moonlight and the lights of Paris made silhouettes out of their bodies and cast long shadows down the hallway. Kyouya's robe made his look like an imposing ruler, but Hunny's seemed pathetic and childish. He felt pathetic and childish. It was as though all his strength had been stolen from him. It reminded him of that one movie he had seen, the one with the black haired wizard with the lightening scar. He'd watched it several years ago with Takashi, and he remembered being scared of the creepy, black cloaked figures. Dementors, the ones that sucked your soul out of your body and made away with all your happiness. That was how he felt. Powerless and like he could never be cheerful again.

When they reached Takashi's door, Hunny was the one to open it. He didn't even bother being cautious and quiet like Kyouya had. He knew that Takashi wouldn't be asleep. His prediction proved correct when he pushed aside the door and saw his cousin sitting on the edge of his bed. Takashi's hands were clasped together, and he was hunched over them, looking at the ground. He raised his head to look at the ones who had interrupted the silence, and he didn't seem surprised to seem them there. Hunny walked in with light steps and gently took his cousin's hand. The gentle giant got to his feet at the slight tug and followed them out of the room. His shadow joined them.

"Ne, Takashi. What about the sleeping pills?" he asked, still holding his cousin's hand. He looked up from his short height, trying to meet Takashi's eyes, but the taller boy turned his head.

"I deserve the nightmares," his deep baritone voice said, and Hunny sighed. His cousin thought that he was to blame for what happened. He squeezed Takashi's hand, but he didn't say anything. He was so tired…

They reached the twins door next. This time, it was Kyouya who opened it, and he at first did so cautiously, but they he opened it wide so that they could all see. The twins had pushed their beds together and were in a defeated, tortured embrace. There was nothing pretty about it. Their hair was a mess, and their pale faces were red and blotchy. They both had tears running down their eyes, and it looked like Hikaru had snot slipping out of his nose.

Kyouya didn't even blink at the messy sight. He pulled a handkerchief out from a pocket in his robes and held it out to Hikaru. "Here," he said, and the elder of the twins took hold of it and wiped his face.

Kaoru furiously rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe out the wetness that was leaking from his face. "This is so wrong," he whispered, his voice broken and croaky.

A look passed over Kyouya's face, penetrating the mask. For a moment, it looked like he was going to hastily piece it back together and pretend that there had been no moment of weakness, but after a few moments, he couldn't hold it any longer, and it collapsed around him. The normal cool, emotionless expression gave way to a look of pure sorrow. He sighed and ran a hand through his already mussed up hair. "I know," he said.

Tamaki had already been awake when they walked in. He was standing at the window, resting his hand against the glass. The lights of Paris illuminated his face, which gazed unseeingly out at the passing cars and the flowing river. Instead, a small, wide-eyed face swam across his vision. He pressed his hand against his forehead and sobbed. This was all his fault. He'd never felt so much guilt before. He'd never felt so much pain. Not even when he'd been forced to leave his mother. He'd never felt anything like this. Somebody very precious to him had died. And it was his fault. He'd as good as killed her. Murdered her. He felt his stomach heave, and he gripped it, but there was nothing left in it to vomit. He'd emptied it hours ago.

He heard the door creak when it opened, but he didn't turn around. He knew who it was. They all shuffled in without a word, and their reflections shone through the window. Kyouya plopped himself into the armchair, and his body hunched over from the pressure of all the despair. Mori sat on the edge of the bed, and Hunny leaned against his legs on the floor. The twins simultaneously leaned against the window and slid down it until the were leaning against the wall beneath it. Each of their faces were etched with anguish and misery.

He hung his head. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, heart broken. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fist against the window.

"You're so weird, senpai!"

"I think you're fine just the way you are."

"Besides, people are always telling me that I'm dripping with good looks."

A bright smile, a high giggle, big brown eyes that always seem to see everything. And then he saw her face the last time he saw her. Filled with terror and fear. Her eyes wide and panicked. "Don't let go!"

He drew in a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry," he said again

Hunny looked up with tears falling out of his eyes again. "It wasn't your fault, Tama-chan," he whispered, and Tamaki opened his eyes and shook his head vigorously.

"Yes, it is. I dropped her. She told me to not let go, and I did." He turned away from the City of Lights to face the dark room. He looked at the ground. "I as good as killed her," he breathed.

Suddenly, he felt his head snap back and a sharp pain on his cheek. His eyes went wide with shock, and he brought a hand to his throbbing face. Hikaru was standing in front of him, his hair covering his eyes. He was shaking with fury. The club watched in surprise as he cried, "You idiot! Did you push her off the train? Did you blow up the school? Did you start the invasion? NO!"

Tamaki blinked. They didn't understand. They didn't get it. He had promised her to always be there for her and to protect her, and when it had mattered most, he'd failed. He'd dropped her, and she'd died because of it. They shouldn't be here with him. They should hate him. They should blame him. They should be wishing exactly what he wished, that he had been the one who fell and died, not her. But he couldn't verbalize it. He couldn't seem to force any of it through his knotted up tongue. He shook his head back and forth in a daze.

Hikaru looked him directly in the eye. "You would have done everything in your power to save her," he said much more quietly. "She wouldn't want you to blame yourself for this."

Tears poured out of Tamaki's eyes. "But how can I not?"

"That's up to you to find out," Mori said from his spot on the bed, and Tamaki felt the guilt ring his heart. He didn't deserve them. He didn't deserve any of them.

Kaoru rose to his feet, and the club watched him exit the room. He returned seconds later, holding a long necked bottle and six glasses.

Tamaki raised an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know where you got that?"

Kaoru shrugged. "Probably not, Dad," he said pouring the red liquid into the glasses. Tamaki couldn't help but be reminded of blood.

Kyouya rose to his feet and took the bottle from Kaoru's grasp, inspecting it. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "This has got to be illegal somewhere," he whispered.

Hikaru scoffed, rolling his eyes. He reached around the black-haired teenager to take hold of a glass. "Who the hell cares?"

Hunny and Mori stood up too, and once all the hosts had taken a glass of the red wine, there was a tense silence in the room. Nobody dared take a sip of it, as though they were all waiting for something. Tamaki stared gloomily into his, looking at his reflection. What would Haruhi have to say about this? He raised his glass slightly. "Here's to you, Haruhi," he said heavily, "the best of us all."

"To Haruhi," the rests of the hosts intoned, and as one they downed their drinks.

Hikaru gasped. "More," he said, holding out his empty cup.

Kyouya pulled the bottle out of reach. "No," he said firmly. "You'll get a hang over."

Hikaru laughed bitterly. "I think that tonight is the perfect night to drink ourselves into oblivion."

"What kind of mother would I be if I let that happen?" Kyouya asked, and Tamaki was secretly grateful that he interfered where he wouldn't. He knew that drinking himself to sleep was a stupid idea, but he was so tired. He wanted to forget, he wanted to sweet release that he'd heard that alcohol would bring. Haruhi would hit him if she ever heard him thinking like that. Or she would have…

Hunny yawned, and once again, Kyouya took on the motherly persona. "Bed," he said, and Tamaki dragged himself to his side of the bed. Behind him, Mori lifted Hunny as though he weighed nothing and gently placed the small blonde child in the middle of the bed, right next to Tamaki. Kyouya took his place on Hunny's right, while Mori and the twins made themselves comfortable at the end of the bed. Once again, Tamaki was thankful that Renge's guest bedrooms had such large beds and that he didn't live with his grandmother. The situation would have been rather embarrassing on any normal day, but it didn't today. He felt much safer and more comfortable with the warmth of his friends around him. It made the emptiness of the night feel much less scary.

After a time, his friends' breathing slowed down and got much deeper. He heard Mori groan in his sleep, and he felt a bit of pity. He knew his friend was in another nightmare, but they had tried to wake him up before, and nothing they tried ever worked. The large teenager was going to have to fight through this one on his own again.

"Tama-chan?" a soft voice whispered next to him.

Tamaki slowly rolled over on his side to face Hunny. His small face was illuminated by the lights outside. "Hai, senpai?" he breathed, trying to keep from waking up the rest of their friends.

Hunny bit his lip. He looked nervous. "You don't think that maybe…" he faltered off.

Tamaki's brow furrowed. "Think what?"

Hunny looked up at him with desperate eyes. "That maybe she's not gone yet? Not all the way?"

A surge of sadness rushed through the French boy, and he stared at the third year with surprise and misery. He laid a hand on Hunny's head and shook his head. "She's gone, Hunny," he said gently, "and there's nothing we can do to change that." With that, Tamaki rolled over to face the window, and he looked out into the night with longing blue eyes. He remembered a song he had learned when he was little. I watch the stars every night, hoping that you'll return. But she'll never return. She'll never come back to him.

"Good night, Haruhi," he whispered into the darkness, and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, not knowing that the blonde boy next to him was still staring up that the chandelier above them.

Okay, well that's it for now! Hopefully my next updates will be quicker. I'll do my best! Next up: Rene makes her escape attempt. And other things. What will happen?