Yes, I'm finally posting chapter three on my web page. I know it's been a very long time since my last update, and I'm very sorry. I know exactly how to get the story where I need it to go now, and I'm nearly done. I'll be posting three and four today, and five next Sunday before midnight. I hope you all enjoy it! -------------------------------------------------------------- The Wasteland A Card Captor Sakura fanfic by Michelle Thatcher ============= Chapter Three ============= Two things that Sakura had never been able to separate in her subconscious mind seemed to be cooking and humming. Keroberus didn't complain, because he knew that after enduring a couple of hours of musical cheerfulness, he'd be rewarded with good things to eat. Of course, that was assuming he could wait that long. He snuck into the kitchen while she stood at the sink and reached a stealthy paw towards the cookies on the table. It was promptly smacked with a wooden spoon. "Sakura-*chan*!" "Those are for Yukito-san." "But Sakura-chan!" "No. You'll get your share, but I won't have you hogging all of them before he even gets any so you'll just have to wait. Besides, they need to cool." "But Sakura-chan!" She gave a long-suffering sigh. "One," she said in a tone that dared him to argue and die. "But don't cry to me when you burn your mouth." He studied the waxed paper for a moment to determine which one was the biggest, then scooped the winner directly onto his tongue. "Kero-chan!" He ignored the searing pain and swallowed happily. Sakura was the best! She returned to washing her mixing bowl in that strangely musical way that she had. He supposed it was behavior like this that kept him thinking of her as a 'good kid' even after two centuries. Suddenly she turned back to him. "I thought you were going to stay with Ayumi-chan." "Yue's watching her." Sakura dried her hands, untied her apron, and hung it on its peg. "I'll go see how she's doing." "I'll come with you, Sakura-chan." "Um ... no, that's alright, I ..." Keroberus smirked. There were times when she was oblivious to such things, but this was not one of them. She was adorable when she turned that color. "I need to talk to Yue," she admitted quietly. "About the snow bunny?" She nodded. "It's alright. I'll stay here." She knelt to give him a tight hug. "Thanks, Kero-chan." As she skipped happily out into the hall, he turned his attention back to the treats on the table. "And no more cookies." Damn. *** Who was she, this young one that had already made such a place for herself in Sakura's heart? By the human standard she was certainly ... cute. Her magic was strong too. She had the sight. Perhaps even to the same level as To-ya she knew things; sensed things; saw things. Like To-ya she seemed to understand the hearts of men. This one would be formidable indeed if she grew into her powers. Sakura seemed sure that his emotions would tie him to this stranger. So far, he merely saw her as an enigma. What Sakura lacked in people sense, though, she made up for in blind and surprisingly productive faith. Only time would tell what role this Ayumi would play in all of their lives. Time revealed all things if one was patient enough. Time soothed pain, and softened feelings. The time would come for ... many things. For him, for his beloved, and for ... The restlessness had started. He'd been expecting it for years. Yukito's pain had run deeper than even he had imagined. Twelve years he had waited. Waited to feel the echoes of something other than dull sorrow from that part of him that had not yet let go of the past. The pain was long in fading. The inevitable shift in emotions had taken much longer than he would have predicted. At last, though, Yukito's longing was for someone other than his To-ya. Perhaps he should warn his master. If he wasn't mistaken, that was Sakura coming down the hall now. He found that he'd lain one hand gently on the child's arm. He removed it quickly not wanting to give her the wrong idea. "Yue!" Her smile still caused strange flutterings in his heart. He smiled in return and held up his hand. She took it and sat beside him. "How is she?" "She seems to be resting peacefully." "I'm making dinner. I hope she wakes up soon." "I imagine she will." He could feel her gathering her thoughts; sense a sort of squirming guilt or reluctance in her. She wanted something, but disliked making requests of him. It was his own fault that she felt that way. For the last hundred years or so his obedience had been a bit too absolute; his drive to fulfill her every desire eager almost to the point of obsession. That was what she hated; the idea that she had such power over him. He'd always known that she felt this way, but until recently he'd just thought of authority as something he hoped that she would grow into. Things were different now. There was a way to help her feel better; to help her believe herself justified in asking the occasional favor. All he had to do was ask her for something first. One abuse of power somehow made another alright, he supposed. She could never refuse him anything either. And it was fun. "Do you want to go to the lake tonight?" He raised her hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles, and smiled in just that way. "The wildflowers are beautiful right now, and the moon is half full." The memory of a hundred such nights added depth and warmth to his voice as he thought of moonlight on golden skin and of tangling his fingers in long new grass as his kisses drove her body upward into his. It was a wonderful thing to be empathic to your lover. Moments like this let him experience an intimacy even more profound than the most breathless of their nights. He could feel the desire he aroused in her; could savor it; feed it fuel; bring it to a slow and agonizing peak with only a light caress or a well chosen word. He clutched her hand to his chest and felt the happy affirmative rising to her lips, but it didn't quite reach them, and he knew that the reason lay on the bed beside them. He couldn't quite work up any real frustration or jealousy, though, and he suspected it would be easy enough to overcome the objection. "This one will be sleeping. Keroberus will watch over her." His lips touched her hand once more. "He can handle one little moonchild for one night. I want to hold you under the stars. Please, Sakura." She let out a shaky breath, but nodded. "I'd like that." They kissed for a moment, but the thought of the child waking made him shy and he pulled away. He knew that he'd succeeded in more than just seducing a promise out of her, though. She was going to ask her favor. "Yue, I ... I need to talk to Yukito-san." "Oh! Is that all?" "What do you-?" "I mean, right now?" "Well, no. Sometime. Tonight. I wanted to ask him a favor. Two favors, actually. And I'm making a lot of food, so ..." "Nothing easier." She smiled. "Sakura, there *is* something you should know. Yukito is ... getting closer." "Closer to what?" "To ... me. He's catching up. He feels a lot better now and as the pain fades, there's room for the other emotions. I think I told you once that he'd someday ..." There was no spark of understanding anywhere in her. He didn't know why he was still surprised by her moments of naivet‚. He'd have to plunge ahead. "That someday when he healed he'd realize that ... that our heart belongs to you now. That you ... that he ..." The meaning was bubbling up in her brain somewhere. He could almost see it behind those clear and clueless eyes. Any moment now... "Oh!" She blushed deeply and squeezed his hand. "You mean that he ... he's ready. Maybe almost ready ... He wants ..." "Well, it's only fair, beloved. You know that we have different minds, but between us there's only one soul. One beating heart. When we're really whole we both want the same things; believe the same things; remember the same things. And we'll always love the same person. Always. He's starting to feel it, but he doesn't know why, and since we've been so separate lately, he feels a little strange about asking you. He seems to know it instinctively, but you know how he is ..." He hated to admit that his other self was almost as oblivious as Sakura herself, but there it was. "He'll need your ... encouragement." "Yue, I ..." a hint of tension and uncertainty. "Are you sure it's what you want, because ... I mean ... if ..." "What is it, beloved?" "Yue, I've been very happy. It just seems like a strange kind of monogamy to me. I love Yukito, I ... want him to feel better. I just want to make sure that ... it's what *you* want too. That ... Things have been so wonderful, and ..." "Sakura, I'm not saying ... I mean, you will need to proceed carefully. Don't rush things, but ... Until he acknowledges it ... He knows as well as I do that something is still keeping us from being as close as we really should be. I don't know if he's made the connection yet between that and what he's started to feel for you. If the two of you don't work things out, then someday he'll become very unhappy seeing you and I together." "And if he's unhappy, then ... you'll be unhappy too." He shook his head. "Stop worrying about my happiness for a moment, alright? What do you feel in your heart?" "That I could really mess things up painfully for all of us?" He pulled abruptly and her startled weight fell against him. He put both arms around her. "No. That's what your head says. Feel." He hated being the cause of that fear and that dread that she was fighting down. He willed her strength and held her close until she gained control of the fear. The calm was growing. She closed her eyes. "My most important person ... my most important person is ... two people. The same?" She was buried in a confusing memory for a moment, and he wondered if it was that one. The only lie Yukito had ever told her. That her feelings for him weren't really what she thought they were; that her love for him was the same as her love for her father. It had hurt and confused her at the time. It had made it much harder for her to recognize real love the next time it had come for her and had shaken her confidence immensely. Yukito had believed it would help her to find a new reference; a new way of categorizing him that would make it alright for her to accept his love for To-ya. He'd hoped that it would create a more familial relationship between them. He'd believed it would help her to be happier. He'd been very very wrong. He'd underestimated her in a nearly disastrous way. "The same?" A tortured whisper. A simple rejection would have been much kinder. He knew that now. All three of them did. In the end, though, she'd understood. It's not love until it goes from one to the other and back again. It's not love until it's tested. She'd learned and grown stronger and then she'd understood. "It is the same! It is! I love him! I love Yukito-san!" She looked up at him and smiled brilliantly. She was proud of herself for figuring it out, and she looked to him for approval which he gave with a gentle smile and a caress on the cheek. "Oh! Yue, what should I do?" "Just ... pay attention to how he behaves. If he does or says anything ... if he seems unusually shy, just ... be gentle with him. Alright?" "I ..." He sensed nervousness, but also a quiet joy. Like anticipation; the long awaited fulfillment of a cherished childhood dream. An emotion so sweet he had to fight hard not to react to it and give himself away. "I will, Yue." One less thing to worry about. She was a smart girl, and she'd figure things out just fine. "Yue?" "Yes?" "When we ... When you and I ... He doesn't ..." "Sakura!" "Well, I mean ..." "Of *course* not!" "But when ..." "Yes. When we're closer we'll have all the same memories and all the same emotions." "But now ..." "Sakura, really!" "Well, I'm sorry, but..." "No, you silly child, I don't let him see any of it. When we're one again like we were before To-ya died, he'll remember all of it. Right now he's not ready. Alright?" "Alright." "Besides, it would make him really jealous." "Yue!" He chuckled softly and kissed her once more. He began to center himself for the change. "Spend some time with him. I'll see you tonight, Sakura." The smile she gave him was a farewell, and a promise, and a prayer for his safe return. As radiance filled the room, he tried to echo those feelings in his own smile. *** A master is someone that you love. Someone that you think about and help and pester. Someone that you can't help adoring no matter what he does or how grumpy and unfathomable he becomes. When your master is miserable, you are miserable. When your master is miserable for a prolonged period of time, you feel compelled to bug and tease and cheer him until he feels better, or begins to threaten you with grievous bodily harm. When your master is miserable for a century, you just want to die. This was the dilemma Ruby Moon struggled with every day. Eriol was unhappy. Eriol had been unhappy for far far too long. Ever since ... Ever since ... *someone* had ... Had ... Well, exactly what she had done depended largely upon whom you asked. As Eriol's Moon Guardian, she was obligated to take his side in the matter regardless of the increasingly disturbing state of his mind, or his tendency to ignore important details when it suited him, or even the fact that he was being a Big Fat Baby about the whole thing. His perception of the events was the only one that really mattered to Ruby Moon since her only purpose was to serve and help him no matter how irrational and annoying he became. She reflected on all of these matters as she delicately packed away vast quantities of toast with honey and looked for signs of what his latest sleepless night had done to him. It was time again to try to do something about all of this. "Eriol, I'm bored." She held on to the long vowel of the last word to give it just the right gentle emphasis. "I'm sick of this place. Let's go to Japan! I want to visit Sakura-chan!" Her master was no fool. As much as his Moon Guardian *did* like the heir, they both knew the real reason for her demand. Eriol put down his spoon and regarded her over his poached eggs, but said nothing. She engaged in the staring contest with will and cheer and vigor, and in the end, he was the one who looked away; his depressed twinge of shame frustrating her immensely. "We can't visit Sakura," he said in a clear and firm tone, but when he offered no other words, she pressed him for a reason. Again he met her eyes, but this time, there was no challenge in him. Only Eriol could manage to look so tortured and so calm at the same time. He held up one hand like an offering of peace, and began to whisper something that sounded almost like a liturgy in that soft and determined voice. "April is the cruelest month, breeding / Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing / Memory and desire, stirring / Dull roots with spring rain." "Pardon?" "It's Eliot. 'The Burial of the Dead.' It's from 'The Wasteland.'" "And?" " ... And we can't visit Sakura." "Why the hell not?" She was used to the pitying looks. She had a liturgy of her own to keep them from crushing her soul utterly. When she wasn't as bright or as sensitive or as well read as ... he might have liked; when she could feel him holding her up in mental contrast to ... another of her kind, she thought it to herself over and over again. 'I am as you made me. I am as you wanted me to be. I am as you made me.' The looks would always pass, and Eriol, knowing that she knew exactly what they meant, would always smile at her after a look like that. The closest thing to an apology deemed appropriate for one of her station. A created being. A servant. He conceded once more to her ability to look into his eyes and lay her soul open to him entirely. She never failed to meet the measure of her creation, and therefore was never ashamed. His own shame finally pushed him to answer. "If I'm with Sakura, I'll feel better." And now, perhaps, they were getting somewhere. "So?" "If I'm with Sakura, I'll forget." Neither would change the other's mind. It was not her place to say more to try to convince him. He was the master, and she was the creation. To this she was yet resigned. She went to him then and wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his back mostly because she knew that he wouldn't stop her. It was all she could offer of comfort and support to this confused, idiotic tyrant that she loved with her whole heart and soul. He closed his eyes and did his best to feel a little better because he knew that she felt all his emotions. It was a noble effort and she loved him all the more for it. "How much longer?" she asked. A gulf of darkness opened wider within him; a vacuum of all hope that discouraged both of them. His eyes were closed and he leaned back against her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't know." -------------------------------------------------------------- This story, including previous chapters, is archived at http://www.akane.org/michelle Please send comments to misha@cybergal.com Thanks for reading!