Standard Disclaimer applies.

A/N: It is finally here! Took me forever to revise! Please enjoy and review!

"When the person you love gets hurt because of you, you feel like the most pathetic, worthless person on Earth."

-- Hatori Sohma, Volume 7, Fruits Basket

Hatori's Remedy presents:

Chapter 55: Details

"I want us to take a break from each other."

What am I saying?! I'm telling her, my guiding light, that I don't want to see her anymore. Will she understand? Will she take it as a 'gentle no' and break up with me? That would the ideal situation. But that is impossible. We are in too deep. I love her. I've confessed my devotion. We've been together for almost a year, but it feels longer. I want to be with her for the rest of my life. Is that such a difficult request to satisfy? Have I asked for much in life? Such a small request. For once, I am being selfish. Kamisama please give me more time? Tell me, give me a sign, tell me to stop myself!

Good things never last.

I should have known. I should have seen it coming, prevented it, shunned it. I should have been more secretive. I should have...

The still-sleepy Tohru opened her eyes. They squinted, strained against the harsh light glowing in the kitchen. Adjusting, adjusting... "Huh?" Her small hand was still resting on his cheek. Delicate, lingering. Forever haunting him.

Fuck. I can't repeat those words again! I can't tell these lies to you, especially when you are here in front of me - pure and loving and forgiving. What am I doing... You don't have a hurtful cell in your body. You won't understand. It will break you. I didn't know how to drag myself away from you. I wanted to take the easy way out, by staying with you. Running away with you - going to a foreign country and starting anew. I've thought about that! Kami I have! I want to tell you to pack a small bag and take you to the airport. We'll run away from it all. But I don't want to be that coward. I want to be a man, and protect you.

It will catch up to us.

We can never truly be free.

It will only hurt more.

I won't let things end the way they did before. I will erase your memory by my own will. I promise it won't hurt. You won't remember anything. No pain, or love. And I guess it is the best that way. My memories can last a lifetime.

I will remember you in your glory.

The way you loved me, so uninhibited, without a care that I was a different species. I was cold, aloof, the seed that could never sprout. But you showered me with love, warmth, joy, that I finally opened. I blossomed, albeit slowly, carefully, warily. You continued to nurture me until I could respond to your affections. Shower you with all my pent-up emotion. Love, even. Something I thought I had lost. You never pulled away, gave up on me. You faced every obstacle with a mulishness that I envy and adore.

My head is going to burst with the confusion, guilt, utter pain.

"Did you do this to yourself?" She asked, her voice tinged with worry when she was fully awake.

"Yes. I fell down the stairs." He answered grimly. He could not concentrate, desperate to feel the warmth of her hand, remember it. The last time. A lie for her pity. "We can't see each other anymore." He mustered every bit of strength he had to say those six horrid words. Nine syllables.

"Why?" She asked, without hesitation. It hit her like a sack of coals - cold and unforseen. Before he could answer her with the lie that he had formed in his mind, repeated countless times to ensure that he would not fail, she continued.

I've been careful not to let anyone know; I promise to be more secretive, Tori. Please."

She drew the last word, pleading with him to explain. Always blaming her self. She thought he was breaking if off because of something she had did wrong? No. NO. Her breaking voice was shattering the strict outline he had for tonight. Getting it over with, quick and painless. But that was impossible. Like forcing a pebble to fly. It wasn't meant to be... I wasn't meant to break you heart.

When he did not respond, merely staring into the grim reproduction on the wall (a gift from Shigure's editor) of a dark man standing at the edge of a cliff, looking off to the sea in shades of violets and blues and jagged rocks, Tohru knew something was wrong. Hatori would not joke about something this serious.

"Real-ly?" She gulped, unable to swallow the truth, literally.

"I can not tell you my reasons now." But one day, I will. He was monotone. He tried to stay as clinical as possible. Be the doctor, be the doctor. But that was impossible. It was like a doctor telling a patient's family that their son had cancer. One could try to stay as focused and dispassionate as possible, but emotions always got in the way of things. The doctor would spend nights thinking about the best treatment - least painful, most successful. If it wasn't successful, he would fall into a state of depression, self-loathing.

For this doctor that 'state' would last for months, years, even decades.

One was a fool for giving up a love this strong.

She tucked her legs close to her chest and bent her head over the small vee formed by her knees. She understood immediately. No need to stick her head deeper into the problem, when it was perfectly clear. It was over. Her sobs were soft, rolling. Like a soft drizzle, that would turn into a monsoon. He brought his hand up in the air, contorting his fingers for circulation - they became gnarled like the branches of a sick, knotted tree. He felt robotic, not knowing what to do with his hand for the first time in months. Physical intimacy had become as common as putting the keys into the ignition when he got into his car, or putting on shoes before he went outside. And suddenly he was lost. He told himself it was nothing but a comforting gesture. Lies, his brains screamed. It would hurt her, hurt him even more, but his hand moved around her back, rubbing softly. At first she welcomed it. But then she shifted in the rocking chair, realizing. It was a subtle movement, unnoticeable if he weren't paying such close attention.

It signified the end.

Before he could stop himself, he uttered roughly, "Please let me." She let him. She even allowed him to cradle her head between his shoulders.

The silence lasted a few minutes, until her soft, but steady voice cut into his thoughts. "Please don't erase my memory."

She had read his thoughts.

She knew him - his actions.

As long as Akito didn't know that her memory was erased. It would be alright. But Akito was a sly woman. Even small details did not hide from her.

In the black pit of his own self-loathing, he did not notice Shigure appear behind the rocking chair. "What happened here?"

Shigure did not comment on the wound of Hatori's face. Maybe he knew all along what had been going on between his guest and his best friend... It was hard for Hatori to gauge his cousin's expression.

"Come on, come on. It's late you two." He pulled Hatori's lead body upright. Hatori slipped a piece of paper into Tohru's clenched hands before Shigure dragged him to the guest bedroom.

---

"NO! You can't take her! I won't let you!"

Even as his eyes fluttered opened and he realized he was in the dark comfort of Shigure's guest room (and not in the stone-walled torture chamber in his nightmare), covered by a worn blanke. He felt unease and fear and loathing. The room was lined with dusty bookcases with every bestselling romance in the past five years. How illogical it was for him to be in the room. Though he felt discomfort lying on his back, damp, he could not move his limbs off the bed. Painfully, he turned his head to the digital clock on the bookshelf. Only forty minutes had passed since Shigure shooed him away.

How was Tohru?

Would it be okay to check up on her?

Why did he care?

Wasn't he supposed to forget about her, let her have a life? His whole body shuddered. Could he stand on his own feet without her?

He finally managed to move his legs. He walked silently upstairs to her room. The door did not have a lock. Shigure had been too lazy to get it fixed, and the boys promised not to barge in, so they never made a big deal out of it. He twisted the door knob and entered. He saw her small body lying on the sofa, face on the armrest, framed by her arms. He studied her face; it was apparent with agony. Her mind always translated to her expressions so well, surprise, joy, sadness. He had seen it all. It was beautiful.

The lines of his brow deepened.

Seeing her like this, so delicate and perfect, touched his dark eyes. They blurred.

---

"Honda-san, where are you?"

Yuki walked into Tohru's room and saw a neat suitcase half-filled, clothing and accessories scattered on the bed. The curtains were drawn. Her wardrobe was open and everything was gone. Her bed was neatly made; the books on her nightstand were gone. What's going on? He thought. Yuki heard sniffling from the bathroom.

"Honda-san, why are you crying? What happened? Where are you going?"

Yuki stood in front of the open bathroom door and saw Tohru sitting hunched over the toilet, gasping for breath. She had thrown-up for the past half-hour, hoping that she hadn't woken anyone. Her stomach wasn't feeling well— nauseous and sick.

---

She looked up to him -- her face swollen and pink from crying herself to sleep, before turning her stricken eyes away from him.

What happened? No one told him when he returned home from the supermarket yesterday evening. He tried to get some answers, but Shigure was locked up in his room/office, and Tohru's door was locked. The guest room was also locked. He left for a few hours to shop and comes home to this?

---

She knew where the gash on his cheek had come from. Stumbling down the stairs didn not result in large lacerations, as Hatori had told her. She had hurt Hatori. Indirectly, but just as bad. It was because of her that he was hurt. She had exposed them somehow. He had probably taken the blame.

Akito had found out. About them. And he wasn't happy.

The image of Hatori kneeling beside her flashed in her mind. She played it over and over in her head. He must have stumbled into the house last night. His shirt stained, with blood streaked across his shirt. It looked like a piece of artwork, the colors dying the shirt a muddy red color. His wet hair was matted to the side of his face, all the contours of his face jagged, colorless.

Shigure stumbled backward when he first tried to pull Hatori up. His ever-present yukata skewed on his thin frame, a look of shock on his face. He couldn't read Hatori's face, but his animalistic senses told him to back off.

In her room, she cried, not knowing the whole story, but knowing the gist of it. The letter was short and bitter, like a dose of hot black tea, just reiterating that it was over. But it was said in the most gentle way, if you could call it that.

Akito knew.

Tohru ran her fingers through his damp, soaked hair. She placed a delicate, gentle kiss at the base of his neck. He was vulnerable. He was hurt.

He pulled away after a few minutes. He turned away, not wanting her to see his broken heart, his lost soul, his forlorn eyes—the tears that were beginning to brim in his eyes. His dark bangs covered them, a mask. It had been removed since the 'strawberry summer.'

When Shigure interrupted, Hatori took it as his chance to lick his wounds. He locked himself in his room. She knocked on his door after ten minutes, but he didn't respond. Shigure tried also, to no avail.

Tohru called out at the door, "I'm so sorry Hatori. I shouldn't have… It's my fault that you're hurt. Please understand." She slid down against the wall, tears forming in her eyes. Did he truly want this?

No Tohru, he wanted to say, It is all my fault. Why are you here, forgiving me? I deserve your hate, your screams, your fists pounding against my chest. I can take it. I want to feel the passionate, as a lasting reminder that we had something strong. Don't come to me with your kind words! Don't tell me that you love me!

You are only making it harder.

I don't think I can live without you.

But I can't live in fear that you will be harmed either.

"Don't worry about Ha-san. He is very moody." Shigure offered after her final attempt, in which she pounded her palms against the door. Shigure tried to soothe her distress, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. She involuntarily shifted. She didn't want anyone's touch.

---

She woke up early and tiptoed to the guest room downstairs. The door was still locked. She put her ear against the door and heard slight, ragged breathing.

Good. She would be able to break it to him without seeing him.

She returned to her room and made up her mind—she was leaving the Sohmas. The ones who had given her a new reason for life. The ones who had accepted her. Loved her.

She needed to leave, to protect them. Especially her Hatori. Her knight. Her purpose in life. He had gotten hurt because of her. She didn't know why, but the wounds had been enough to tell her that she had to leave.

She pulled out stationary that Arisa had bought her for her birthday and began writing. Two letters. One to Yuki, Kyo, Shigure, and the other Sohmas, and one to Hatori.

Finishing the letters, she sealed each with a kiss on the envelope. Then she went into the closet and retrieved her saved-up money and a brown box.

Then, she began packing.

---

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines,
Can make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild Horses,
Couldn't drag me away,
Wild, wild horses,
Couldn't drag me away

"Wild Horses" - The Rolling Stones

// A.N. The song cover by The Sundays is nice.

The painting on Shigure's wall is Casper David Friedrich's Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog (1818).

"Kamisama please give me more time" credits the Japanese drama of the same name (Kamisama mou sukoshi dake). It is my favorite drama. The saddest thing I've ever seen, though contrived at first. Bittersweet. It's older (1998), but really, really good. I recommend. It's on YouTube (in sing-songy voice for persuasion).

Reviews are VERY, VERY welcome. (One coupon for Hatori (or Shigure) consoling you after a bad day. No expiration date.)