Beta'd version of the chapter. Enjoy.

He groaned a little as he came to, the cold of the dungeon replaced by the warmth of sunlight. A pale blue sky, with thin wisps of white clouds, greeted him as he opened his eyes. Turning his head a little to the right, he found himself staring at Masooma, her eyes closed, complexion pale and her brow dotted by sweat, just like it had been inside his memory. He knew it was a memory now. A part of him knew it to be a memory. He wasn't sure how he knew it was true, but he did. He could tell there was no magic being involved in making him believe that, because in his mindscape- for that was where Masooma had taken him to view the memory- he could easily identify any and all sorts of magic being cast. And after he had called her out on using magic to make him trust her, she had not used her magic at all, save for that one time to soothe his pounding headache.

Now that he had established that what he had seen had indeed been a memory, he found himself… not exactly trusting the witch, but maybe a little more willing to listen to what she had to say. After all, just like she had said, she had not done anything to hurt him so far. True it had only been a day-it had been just a day, right?-since he had met her, but she had yet to hurt him, which was more than what he could say for them. Even if this was all just some sick, twisted game, he knew now that he was missing memories and if playing along was what it took for him to regain what he had lost, he'd play along. He'd bide his time and see what they did next before doing something. 'After all,' a bitter voice spoke inside his head, 'it's not like you can go anywhere in your current state.'

"So, you're awake." A deep, slightly husky voice observed. He jumped a little, cursing himself for letting his guard down enough to let someone sneak up on him. He shot up, looking around him wildly, before his eyes settled on the form of a dark-haired man who was probably the owner of the voice. "That means Masooma will be waking up soon."

"Who are you?" the question was past his lips before he could stop himself. Syaoran could not see much of the speaker from the position he was in, with the man's back turned towards him and his entire frame hidden underneath a deep blue cloak that appeared almost black in places. A strange scent hung about his person, though Syaoran had trouble placing it because it was so faint, probably due to the fact that they were in such an open space. He saw the man's back tense a little at his words before he visibly forced himself to relax.

"Who am I?" the man repeated, chuckling a little, though even Syaoran could tell there was no mirth behind the action. "I suppose I could tell you I'm your friend," he mused lightly, "but not only would that be clichéd, it would also sound like a big fat lie considering the fact that you don't remember ever having met me."

"Who told you that?"He asked stiffly, narrowing his eyes warily as he looked around them once more. There was no one else in the cave apart from the three of them. The man's scent made him a little uneasy; as it reminded him of blood for some reason, though he could not really see any blood in the vicinity. How did this man know about his missing memories?

"No one at all." The man answered in that same airy tone. Syaoran waited for the man to continue. If he was trying to mess with his head, he would not react in whatever manner this man expected him to.

"You don't have to be so wary of me, Syaoran." He chuckled again.

"Shouldn't you be telling me your name?" he asked coolly, though it was taking all his control to not panic right then and there. This man knew his name and he knew about his missing memories. "And shouldn't you at least turn around and look at me when you're talking to me?" Without a name to go on and without a face to attach to that deep voice that reminded him a little of Kurogane, Syaoran wasn't really sure what to think of this man. The paranoid part of him wanted to turn and run, to get as far away from him as possible-he knew too much about him-but the slightly rational part of him, the part that told him to lie in wait and get his memories back with the witch's help, that part of him told him to face the man and see what he could get out of him. After all, if he knew about his missing memories, Syaoran might be able to get him to let something slip. Plus, even if he wanted to, without the use of his legs, he'd never really be able to get very far. No, it would be best not to let this man know that he was rattling him.

"I can turn around if you want," the man said, as he did as asked, "Though I doubt I'd be able to look at you." Syaoran's frown deepened a little upon hearing those words until he got a look at the man's face. Or, more specifically, his eyes. They were a dull, spark-less grey.

"You're blind." He gasped, shock coloring the tone of his voice. Maybe it was the air of power that surrounded his presence or the fact that this man knew he was awake without even looking at him that had made Syaoran think so, but he had not expected him to be blind.

"The Oracle, at your service," the man gave him a lopsided grin, "but you can call me Nixon."

The Oracle. Another word that caused a stir within his mind, but just like before, whatever feeling it was that was attached to this word escaped his grasp. Not wanting another assault of that blinding headache, Syaoran forced himself not to chase after that feeling.

"We have met before." He found himself saying instead.

"Of course." The Oracle's grin widened a little, "Like I said, I was your friend. Or, well, I think I was." He added sheepishly, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "I'm not quite sure whether you considered me a friend or not. You were always so polite around me that I could never really tell. Now Masooma, on the other hand," he added with a laugh, "it was always fun to see you stutter around her."

"See me?" Syaoran frowned.

"Well not exactly seeing see but more like seeing see," the man replied casually, "You know, it was like seeing you without really seeing you."

Syaoran blinked. "…What?"

"I can't see like normal people because, as you just put it, 'I'm blind.'" The Oracle replied, and Syaoran found himself blushing a little in embarrassment at having been so callous. "But I'm not blind entirely. I've got what you could say… a sixth sense if you will. Makes up for not being able to see in the sense that I can sense auras, which is pretty darn helpful at times, I'd say." He grinned with a wink. Funnily enough, despite being blind, the man was looking right at him. Or well, right through him, which was somewhat unnerving.

"How is it helpful?" he wondered out loud, hoping the man would look away.

"Well, I can tell when someone is lying, from the way their aura changes colors." He answered with a shrug, "Plus, it lets me know where people are around me without even having to look. And I can tell when someone is uncomfortable with me looking at them." He added in a conspiratorial whisper, though he did not look away. Syaoran vaguely wondered if this man, the Oracle, was enjoying his discomfort as he averted his own gaze. He tensed up as he caught sight of the man's hands for the first time. His long cloak had been concealing the rest of his body from view but the man had just lowered his arm from scratching the back of his head. "What's wrong?" he asked as Syaoran's breathing sped up, though he must have sensed some shift in his 'aura' to know that something was out of place.

"Blood." The brunette gasped in response, slowly pushing away from the Oracle as the latter's smile transformed into a frown.

"Blood?" he repeated in a confused tone.

"Th-there's blood… on your hands…" he replied, moving further away.

"My- oh…" Nixon murmured before hurriedly pushing his hands back into the folds of his cloak. This man had blood on his hands. That was why Syaoran could smell it in the air. "It's a friend's," he explained somberly, turning his back towards the crawling brunette who stilled upon hearing those words, "He was stuck in a position similar to your own. This is his."

"Who is-" Syaoran's next words were cut off by a small groan from Masooma, who sat up holding her head with a pained expression.

"Let's not jump into your memories without some prior preparation next time, okay, Syaoran?" she said, "I feel like I got ran over by a stampede of Northern Bullhorns or something." Syaoran had no idea what a Northern Bullhorn was, but he could tell it meant she was not feeling good. Sustaining a spell for so long had probably taken its toll on her. The bruises under her eyes had darkened considerably. Added to that, the slightly sickly pallor of her skin made him feel a little concerned for her. It was with this observation that he startlingly realized just how much he had let his guard down around these two. He had even forgotten about the blood coating the Oracle's hands for a little while… as refreshing as it had been, talking to the other man without having to worry about anything else, he felt cross with himself for having allowed himself to become so relaxed. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at ease, but this was neither the time nor the place for something like that. He did not even know where he was or who these people were or why they were helping him. He wasn't about to trust them just because they said they were his friends. He'd learnt his lesson about trusting his friends blindly.

"You shouldn't push yourself past your limits, Masooma." Nixon spoke up suddenly, making the witch turn her head so swiftly that the resulting crick made Syaoran wince.

"Nixon?" Syaoran noticed the shock in her voice, "Wh-What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be…" she trailed off, casting a rather wary glance in his direction, making Syaoran frown in response when she turned her attention back towards the Oracle. She was hiding something. The Oracle had all but forgotten about him and his half-asked question, and the witch did not want him finding out about whatever it was that the man had been up to.

"That's why I came." Nixon replied somewhat stiffly. "There was a change in plans."

"What happened?" Masooma was immediately on her feet, her dark hair whipping about her body at the action.

"Relax, we've got him back." Came the response as the Oracle slowly climbed to his feet, keeping his back turned towards the two of them. It was almost as if he was avoiding looking at the witch. Or maybe, he was trying to keep the witch from seeing him and the blood that was on him. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

"Is he…" she hesitated, worrying her lip slightly as she reached out to touch the Oracle's shoulder before shaking her head and drawing away, "Is he okay?"

"As well as can be," he replied, "considering the circumstances involved."

"Where is he?" she asked, her voice sounding just a little shaky. "I should-"

"He has a well-trained healer looking after him even as we speak," the Oracle cut in smoothly, "you should be more worried about the wellbeing of your own patient."

"My patient is none of your concern." Masooma replied sharply, without even sparing a glance in his direction, as she appeared too busy glaring at the back of the man's head.

"Well, considering the fact that I care about his wellbeing," he replied a little coolly, "I'd say it is."

Syaoran thought it was a little funny for some reason, the way they were discussing Masooma's patient, meaning himself, as if he wasn't there at all. He didn't mind, though. Just watching them talk and interact was answering a few of his questions. The 'friend' whose blood was on Nixon was apparently the same man Masooma was worried about. And from the looks of it, she cared a lot about him. From the way the Oracle appeared to be treating her, there was some tension between the two people present. These two danced around each other's words, subtly trying to avoid a fight that had to be in the making for a while. If he could have forgotten about his own problems for a little while, it would have been almost entertaining to watch. After what had to have been months of nothing but agony and fear and confusion, being forgotten and not in pain was actually a bit of a relief. Plus, even though he was a little uncomfortable sitting on the metal platform, he didn't care much about it. These two strangers that claimed to be his friends from a time he couldn't remember, they were acting far too normal around him to be a part of some act put on by them to mess with his head. He'd still wait and see for a little while longer before deciding about everything that was going on around him, but for now, he was content to sit back, watch and learn whatever he could.

"Who's looking after him?" Masooma asked, completely ignoring what the Oracle had said. Syaoran noticed how her eyes stared right at the man's head, yet did not look exactly at him. He had no doubt something had happened between the two and this was clearly the first time they were talking after whatever it was had happened. He might have never actually noticed all the subtle hints in their actions and body gestures before, but after having gone through hell, he had learnt to be a lot more observant of his surroundings. For instance, even though he was watching Masooma and Nixon, he knew that there were about three other tunnels that led out of the sun cavern apart from the one that Masooma had used to bring him there earlier. The path leading to one of these tunnels was quite winding and littered with tiny pebbles and weeds, which meant that that tunnel had not been used in a while. There were small carvings in the form of complicated-looking seals and runes running all over the walls of the cave, no doubt sustaining the spell that caused the roof of the cavern to reflect the midday sky. There were also seals carved above all the tunnel entrances, though he wasn't quite sure as to what purpose they served.

"A skilled healer, who also happens to be his close friend." Syaoran wondered why the two were avoiding the use of names. He was pretty sure it had something to do with his presence there, though, so he doubted they'd tell him if he asked. He decided to question the witch about it once they were alone. "Don't worry Masooma. He won't die just because you were not there to personally look after him. He's not in any immediate danger, and you will be notified if any complications were to arise."

"I just…" Masooma seemed to deflate for some reason, her earlier anger vanishing as she looked away, "want to see him."

"He's resting." Nixon told her quietly as he started walking away.

Masooma merely stood there, clenching and unclenching her fists as she struggled to come to some sort of decision. Or that was what she seemed to be doing to Syaoran. Her eyes hardened as she finally shook her head and looked back at the Oracle's retreating back.

"Nixon," The man halted in his footsteps though he did not turn around to face her. He paused for a few short moments, waiting for her to speak, before he heaved a sigh and started walking again. "Wait…" he faltered, stopping at the sound of her voice again, "please, I-I… what happened that day… I'm really-"

"Save it, Masooma." The Oracle cut in sharply, cold anger rolling off of him in waves, "I was frustrated with the way you were acting back then. Just forget about it, alright? Get over it and move on. Oh, and while you're at it, I'd suggest you get Syaoran to his room. He could use some rest after the stress of having to relive his memories."

"How about I'll worry about my job and you worry about yours?" she hissed acidly, but he was gone with a swish of his deep blue cloak before Masooma reached the end of her sentence. Sighing heavily and somewhat shakily, she turned away from Syaoran for a little while. Syaoran chose not to comment on her bloodshot eyes and slightly wet cheeks when the witch turned back around to face him with a small smile. "I really should be getting you back to your room." She said, moving closer to help him into the wheelchair, "You must be pretty tired after that whole ordeal."

The walk back to the room he had woken up in was spent in silence, leaving Syaoran to contemplate on what he had discovered so far.

-0-

Sakura pushed her hair out of her eyes with one hand before dipping the washcloth into the tub of crimson liquid and wringing it slightly to get rid of the excess water. Straightening a little, she used the cloth to wipe away some more blood, taking great care not to pull at the torn flesh of Fai's chest. Dipping it back into the water, she looked towards the doorway before returning her attention to the task at hand. She was vaguely aware of Syaoran's eyes on her as she cleaned the blood of off Fai, but she made herself not think about anything at all.

She felt strangely disconnected from reality as her body repeated the mechanical motions of dipping the cloth in the tub of medicated liquid, wringing the cloth before bringing it to the pale flesh covered in blood and grime and wiping a little bit of it off before repeating the actions. She had no doubt it would all come rushing to her in a few hours when she would be alone, but for now she could not bring herself to fight off the haze that was consuming her. She needed to focus on what she was doing. Magic and Kurogane's blood could get the blond only so far. With the state he was in, he was going to need a lot more help and she was the only one that could provide him with that.

She was exhausted and every part of her body was screaming for relief. With all the magic she had expended so far it was a wonder she had not passed out in a dead faint already. Had her magic been any weaker, she would have succumbed long ago, maybe even long before she could have been of any use to Fai. But being powerful, magically-speaking, had its upsides. As she brought the cloth back to Fai's chest a strong hand gripped her wrist, startling her out of her stupor for a little while as she jerked her head in the direction of the body attached to the arm holding her.

"Kurogane-san?" she questioned, wondering why the older man had stopped her.

"I'll clean him up," he replied in the gruff manner that was all Kurogane as he pried the washcloth from her fingers and gently pushed her out of the way. "Take a break and catch your breath. You look ready to fall over."

"I can't," she shook her head, moving away to retrieve a second washcloth, hurriedly soaking it in the medicated water before wringing it to get rid of the excess water, "Fai-san needs-"

"Proper care," the ninja interrupted her, "and with the state you're in, he won't get that."

"But…" she protested weakly before feeling Syaoran's cold touch on her shoulder. She turned her gaze in the spirit's direction and was hit with a pang of longing. She missed her Syaoran.

Why don't you get some fresh air at least? The spirit suggested kindly, it might help refresh your mind a little. Fai-san looks like he'll need stitches for… he gestured helplessly in the direction of the blonde's blood-covered body that Kurogane was busy cleaning with surprisingly gentle strokes.Violetta-san did not bring anything that we can use to do that.

"I'll clean him up," Kurogane grunted, "You should go and get some needles and threads."

Come on, Sakura-hime. At the brown-haired apparition's prompting she let the washcloth drop back into the tub of water with a small nod.

"I'll be back soon." She promised softly before turning and walking out of the room. She heard Syaoran say something to the ninja quietly before hurrying after her.

They walked in silence for a little while, the princess hurriedly ducking into a side corridor as she spotted Tsubasa being wheeled down the corridor by Masooma. The witch appeared exhausted and as soon as she came within range of Sakura's magic, the princess picked up waves of fatigue rolling off the woman. Sadness and pain also hung about the witch like a dark cloud, but it was only because of the empathic nature of her magic that Sakura was able to tell what she was feeling. Tsubasa appeared to be quite tired himself, but unlike Masooma, he appeared to be in deep thought, his brow furrowed in concentration as he puzzled over something. A pang of longing reverberated within her chest as she caught sight of the brunette. She took a step in his direction before catching herself. She couldn't see him yet… that was part of the price.

Clenching her eyes, she hid herself deeper in the shadows of the corridor, ignoring Syaoran's curious gaze on her as the pair passed by their hiding space. Only when she could no longer hear the sound of Masooma's footsteps did she step out.

Why did you hide? Syaoran asked quietly.

"We're not supposed to see Syaoran until he's back to normal." She murmured before setting down the corridor with a brisk walk.

Why not? She heard curiosity tint the apparition's tone as he caught up with her.

"We made a wish to Watanuki-kun that the next world that Mokona goes to be Magihidusi since Mokona has no control over the world it lands in." she replied, slowing down at the end of the corridor. Once outside the pryamidical structure, she stopped altogether, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she turned her back towards the spirit. "We had to get to Fai-san as soon as possible. After seeing the state Tsubasa was in… we knew we had to get here as soon as we could. " her tone became distant as she spoke, her surroundings blurring out until nothing was left but herself in the midst of a vast emptiness, "We couldn't leave Fai-san to suffer… but, we couldn't leave until Tsubasa was better… We couldn't leave him behind in the state he was in… and now Fai-san is… he's suffered so much… even if he can heal faster because of what he is… he didn't deserve that… Tsubasa didn't deserve that… what did they ever do to deserve such a thing? Life has already been so hard for them and now this…"

Sakura-hime, Syaoran's touch felt surprisingly warm on her shoulder, startling her out of her reverie as he walked around to stand in front of her, I know it may not seem that way now… but, his finger brushed against her cheeks and she was surprised to find that she had started crying again, everything will be alright. The comforting smile he sent her way made a fresh wave of tears to cascade down her cheeks. Standing there, staring at her with such a reassuring gaze, smiling that gentle smile of his, only made her miss her Syaoran. A small burst of warmth flared inside her chest for a fraction of a second, overwhelming longing plaguing her until she found herself throwing her arms around the surprised apparition's body, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed her heart out.

"Will it, Syaoran? Will it really?" Had she been less stressed, she might have paid attention to the fact that she could suddenly touch the spirit without passing through him. But as it was, she let herself drown in his comforting presence as the apparition returned her hug, gently rubbing her back as he pressed his mouth into her hair. She closed her eyes, drinking in the scent that was unique to Syaoran- a soft blend of sandalwood, desert wind and sunshine- pretending that it wasn't the spirit that held her but her beloved.

I sure hope so, Sakura. He murmured and she tightened her grip, afraid that when she opened her eyes and stepped away, her little deception would fall apart and she'd remember who this man in her arms was. She did not want the guilt of her actions to attack her just then, so she kept her face buried in his shirt, hoping that maybe, maybe when she opened her eyes it would all turn out to be a bad dream and she would still be in herSyaoran's arms, who would smile and tease her for being silly before kissing her tears away. Little did she know, the spirit holding her was fooling himself in a manner not much different than her own. Sooner than either of them would have liked, the magic or whatever had given the brunette a solid form faded away and she stumbled through his body. Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, she forced the tears away, hastily rubbing her eyes with her knuckles to dry her face a little.

"Watanuki-kun granted our wish provided that we, that is, Kurogane-san, Moko-chan and I, don't go anywhere near Tsubasa until Masooma-san has healed him." She said before the apparition had a chance to say anything.

… I see. She heard Syaoran say after a brief silence. Where is Mokona by the way? I haven't seen it around.

She was thankful that the brunette did not bring up what had just happened. She did not want to think about her moment of weakness.

"Moko-chan is resting in Masooma-san's quarters." She replied, "Right after we arrived here, Mokona said something about the magic here tampering with its magical core. The last time they were here, Moko-chan didn't feel any ill effects because it was in a coma and its core was shut off from everything else. Now, however, it is making Moko-chan sick so to protect itself Mokona went into a deep sleep."

When will Mokona wake up?

"I'm not sure," Sakura answered, "but from what it said, I think Mokona won't wake up until it's time for us all to leave."

Silence pervaded between them next, both unsure about what else to say. Sakura struggled to gather her raging thoughts, very much aware of the apparition's presence right behind her. Regret about what she had done coiled around her heart, squeezing it painfully like a snake does its prey. This man was not her Syaoran, even if they shared the same face and soul. No matter their similarities, they were different and her Syaoran did not deserve to be replaced by someone else, even if it was just an attempt to comfort herself. And Syaoran-his father, that is-did not deserve to be used in that manner either.

So… at the sound of the spirit's voice, she forced herself to pay attention, even if every part of her just wanted to crawl into a hole and cry her eyes out. A small, involuntary laugh bubbled up her throat at his next words as she turned back around to look at him, any idea which way to the infirmary?

The brunette offered her an understanding smile, his eyes silently letting her know that it was okay to be a little selfish sometimes. She returned the gesture with her own shaky smile as he gently took her hand in his cold fingers and pressed a small kiss to the back of it, not unlike the way Fai had done with her other self on numerous occasions after Acid Tokyo. He had been equally guilty of using her, after all.

A/N: Tsubasa gets to meets Nixon who in turn acts like a complete jerk to Masooma. Sakura longs for her Syaoran but turns to the next best thing for comfort. I wonder if her actions might to come back to bite her later on. After all, given the stress she's under, she might be turning to him again, no? How many of you noticed that Syaoran called her by her name without any honorifics?

By the way, the blood on Nixon's hands was the only thing that Syaoran saw. There's more there but it's hidden underneath the cloak. Hmm… I can't think of anything else to say right now so leave a review and lemme know what you think.

~Obsidian