Bittersweet 3

Fragments of the End, Sans a Beginning

Partly co-authored with CheeseyCraziness, before she left FFN. It's been a year and a half, and so as soon as I could finish what I had of my notes, I posted this. My apologies to all who were waiting for this.

(Five years later)

Syaoran adjusted his tuxedo nervously. Though he knew he looked just fine for the social, he couldn't help but feel like he stood out. Like he didn't belong here. Still, what else was there for him to do as he searched the crowd, circulated in hopes of finding just one beloved face that he had not seen, save in his dreams, for five long, lonely years?

The Lava Lounge was located in a large mansion in Hong Kong. Syaoran had picked up some information that said that Sakura had moved to Hong Kong. It had taken him five years; he'd been to the US, to Europe, to other Asian countries, on what were ostensibly business trips to establish his own business empire, but a few days were always devoted to finding out what he could about Sakura. Since he no longer could rely on the connections he had when he was still with his family, or indeed on Eriol Hiiragizawa, to whom he no longer spoke, he was reduced to searching by himself, unwilling to hire a detective for that purpose.

So he watched the crowds pass. He watched the young ladies chatter and twitter about the men they wanted to be asked to dance by; he watched the young men converse about which women they wished to ask to dance.

So silly. And he was part of the silliness, albeit reluctantly. He felt like a penguin in a tropical forest; he had no wish to chatter, to talk to anyone, anything.

Syaoran had no idea how handsome he still was. Though a tinge of gray had begun to streak his hair, and shallow lines were on his forehead, Syaoran was still well-built and his deep brown eyes held an attractive melancholy. Women cast him speculative looks, but his natural arrogance, one which had never left him, kept them at bay. And he was not interested in anyone; if he couldn't have her, then no one else would do.

Why was he attending this silly party, anyway? Because there was a chance that she would be there. How one person could disappear so completely from his life after being a part of it, a beloved and cherished part of it, was beyond his ability to understand. There were times when he was tempted to give up, in fact.

But five years without knowing if she was still out there somewhere, waiting, had taken a toll on him. Just to see her. Just an hour, half an hour, ten minutes—just to take back everything, to tell her the truth, to show her how absolutely sorry he was for all the bad decisions he'd made then... he would have sold his soul for that hour with her.

Sakura.

The chattering of the crowd rose and fell like a wave. Waiters pushed through the crowd, bearing platters of freshly cut organic fruit. He caught sight of a red Delicious apple on one tray, and suddenly, like it was yesterday, he remembered the day everything had gone to hell—and what role he'd played in it.

(Present time)

It was the height of winter. Tokyo was cold, and when Sakura walked into her office that morning, she found no apple on her desk. She wasn't surprised; Syaoran had just returned from Hong Kong, she knew.

But something about the lack of the apple sent a small thrill of apprehension through her. Sakura shook it off, and decided to talk to him when she saw him. In the evening, she found a small present from him on her desk.

She opened it, and smiled. In it was a tiny pink Hello Kitty brooch. So he had listened to her, after all. It was unique: pink crystals dotted Kitty's dress, and two little oval onyxes were her eyes. They had joked a lot about Hello Kitty in their many conversations in the past, and for him to remember that and her favourite color...

How could she not love him?

She turned over the small box the present had come in, but there was no note. He didn't answer when she called to thank him, so she decided to talk to him the next day when she saw him, which she did an hour before lunch.

"Ne, Syaoran," Sakura grinned when she saw him back at the office, "how was your trip? And thanks for the present!"

He nodded coolly at her and walked past.

Bad mood, Sakura decided. Syaoran had his moods, and Sakura had learned to adjust to them. Usually he liked being joked out of his bad moods, and so she waited until lunch time before sending him a text message: "Maybe some takoyaki will get you out of the funk you're in. My treat? Bento bar at Jiho street."

No response. Sakura waited until one o'clock, but when no response was forthcoming—he usually responded within seconds, normally—she gave up and went out to lunch alone

Sakura decided he'd gone to a meeting, and was surprised to learn he'd been in the office the whole time. Maybe he had not received her message?

That afternoon, she ran into him in one of the quiet corridors of the building.

"Syaoran! Hey, how was your trip?" she said, keeping pace with him. She smiled, and peeked up at him playfully.

"Okay," he said. He didn't look at her.

Sakura looked up at him. Just the other night, as they talked, he had been sweet, giddy, playful even. Who was this then? She resisted the urge to pinch Syaoran.

"Is there a problem... with your mother?" she began tentatively.

He raised an eyebrow but still did not look at her. "None of your business," he said roughly, then abruptly turned a corner, leaving her alone and confused.

Syaoran leaned against the wall when he sensed Sakura wasn't following him. It wasn't easy, and yet it was easy. The hurt expression in her eyes... god no, he didn't want to see it there but if she hated him, maybe she would back away, maybe she would leave and then she wouldn't have to suffer what his family might have in store for her.

How stupid, Syaoran thought, placing an arm over his eyes. I must hurt her to protect her. Suddenly he was laughing; bitter, angry, brittle laughter. No one would see him; no one should see him. He couldn't cry; he hadn't cried since he was a child.

I can't do this!Syaoran screamed in his head.

Images of Sakura's hurt, confused face floated in his mind. He'd been cold and distant the whole day, and it was hard. But he had to do it; Eriol's words, Eriol's watchful eyes haunted him.

He raised his cellphone to his face, scrolling quickly through it, then pressing DELETE. It was done; Sakura's number was no longer there.

He then began slowly deleting her messages to him. One wrenched at his frayed emotions, and he read through it several times first. "I don't think you're doing a bad job. I think someone should tell you you've done things it would take years to do, and I just wish that I were someone who could tell this to you and make you see that it's true. Your family has to see how well you've done things, and I believe they will. Cheer up!" She had sent it to him on a day when he was feeling underappreciated and overworked.

She had no idea how much it had meant to him, and Syaoran closed his eyes as he hit DELETE.

When Eriol found him in the corridor several minutes later, Syaoran was completely calm. But the remains of his phone lay several feet away from him.

"What..." Eriol began.

"I dropped it," Syaoran said nonchalantly. "Too bad. Have the janitor clean it up, will you?"

A week later, a new employee, Filimina Ong, had been put in place as editor for a large section. She was a big, jolly half-blooded Chinese woman in her late forties, and her booming laughter and smiles put Sakura at ease, initially. They shared an office, and Sakura occasionally turned to her for help with her section. Mina, as the woman liked to be called, sent Sakura tips, helped her contact key people for her section, and forwarded articles to her for her use.

The only thing that disturbed Sakura was Mina's obvious sucking up to Syaoran in public. She would praise Syaoran's looks, his diplomatic abilities, his 'masterful' handling of editorial meetings, and so on. At first it was amusing, and there were times Sakura was tempted to send Syaoran a humorous message, but she decided against it. He probably would not reply anyway.

Syaoran had not contacted Sakura in all this time, and when they ran into each other by chance, she would greet him and he would nod, but nothing would happen. He never sent her messages again or called her, and in sad bewilderment, Sakura quietly accepted that whatever had been between them was over.

"Good boy," Eriol Hiiragizawa said over lunch with Syaoran in the large, ornate dining room of the JB.

"To what do I owe your condescension?" Syaoran lifted an eyebrow.

"You've cut Kinomoto out of your life. Keep it up and she'll quit, move temptation out of your way."

"I was never tempted." Syaoran calmly continued sipping the nido soup he liked. He resisted the urge to add, 'She is nothing to me.' Eriol would never believe that.

"You've gotten better at hiding your emotions," Eriol said, a tiny smile on his lips. "Which is why you deserve this." And he passed over a large file folder to Syaoran, who opened it and skimmed through the documents.

"Ah," was all Syaoran said.

"Let me be the first to call you President," Eriol beamed. "Your mother was pleased when you got rid of Kinomoto."

"I would prefer to think that my abilities and hard work earned me this, not the avoidance of one woman," Syaoran said coldly.

"Forgive me then," Eriol said. "But you must assume the position soon—and the responsibilities that go with it."

Syaoran managed not to turn pale. Responsibilities. When his mother was involved, that included...

Eriol summoned a serving butler, who returned with Filimina Ong and a pretty, young Chinese girl in her early twenties.

"Syaoran-sama," Filimina smiled, "this is my daughter Nirina."

Syaoran raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a rather unconventional name for a pureblood?"

Mina laughed. "Ah but we flout the old ways when we feel like it. Anyway Nirina is going to intern here as she has just finished college. I thought she... might be to your liking."

The girl curtseyed, and Syaoran smiled at her. He found her charming: pale smooth skin, flirtatious eyes, and a Cupid's bow of a mouth made her quite pretty. it was like she had been designed to attract an Oriental man.

"She can intern in your section."

"Wasn't Sakura formerly a teacher?" Mina's smile was feral in intensity. "Perhaps Nirina can start there."

"Very well. See to it," Syaoran said. He dismissed all but MIna.

"Is this the one my mother chose?" he asked her baldly once they were alone, without beating around the bush.

"She is a virgin," Mina smiled.

"Fine." Syaoran dismissed her as well, then retreated to his office, where he spent several minutes staring out of the window. Might as well cut clean, he thought to himself.

And a few days later, he found himself in an engagement ceremony with Nirina.

"Nirina?" Sakura smiled as she brought the printout to the girl, who was around twenty-two. "The article I asked for needed to focus on English mistakes made by non-native speakers of the language. Erm, you kind of missed the point."

The paragraph written by Nirina, clearly unfit for publication, read, "Haha! So for to all you out there who are listening to this article, written by me, you should know now by now that English is so totally not an easy language. There are many mistakes you can make, and I'm here to remind y'all of them all!"

Nirina stared at Sakura before turning on her smile. "Oh, dear, I am so sorry."

"Never mind that; it's already the running deadline so I rewrote it."

"My credit line..." Nirina looked at the proof. "Why did you remove my credit line?"

"Because the article is no longer yours," Sakura explained patiently.

"Oh." Nirina pouted.

As soon as Sakura's back was turned, she went to her mother's office and complained bitterly of Sakura's 'unfairness'. A few hours later, Sakura was summoned to Syaoran's office.

"She's a good girl from a good family. Why can't you be more patient with her?" Syaoran snapped.

"But...she made a mistake. Have a look at the original article. It's very badly written. Nirina is not a writer, I'm sorry. She needs training."

"You should have run the original," Syaoran said coldly after perusing it.

"Are you... Isn't this my call as an editor?" Sakura protested. "Don't you see how badly written it is?"

"Not when you're being unreasonable," Syaoran replied.

Sakura looked at Syaoran; his eyes were hard and cold. She sighed, and said, "Fine. But I stick by my evaluation."

"You needn't be so rude. Nirina needs guidance."

"Yes, and I was trying to give it to her but she does not listen, it's in one ear and out the other! She's a stubborn girl who thinks her looks will take her far."

"I won't have you discuss my fiancée that way," Syaoran snarled.

"Your... fiancée?" Sakura said slowly.

"Yes."

"But isn't that unprofessional?" Sakura argued. "Castigating me on that basis?"

"Kinomoto, that will be all from you," Syaoran said as he turned around and began to work on his computer. "Out."

Sakura stared at him, then left his office, seething at the unfairness of his treatment. But that was only the beginning. At meetings for editors, Nirina was suddenly included, despite not being an employee. If Sakura said anything, Nirina or her mother would shoot her down, and if they laughed, Syaoran would laugh along with them.

After one vicious meeting, in which Sakura had been mocked for a mistake another editor had made, she decided to take a day off to think.

What did I do? Sakura hugged herself; it was suddenly too cold. Had she said or done something to offend him?

It's me, she realized quickly. Images of her broken past relationships whirled in her head, the men who had been with her briefly then walked away. She'd thought Syaoran was different...no, don't blame him, she thought. It's you, it's always you, you repel people, you do the wrong thing!

But there hadn't been anything, not that she remembered. And it would have hurt and confused her more if she'd known that she had not, indeed, done anything at all.

The mother and daughter tandem did not let up, though. Mina slipped Sakura an article which she claimed was to be published in her section 'on Syaoran's orders.' Dutifully Sakura included it in her lineup, and Syaoran approved the section, initialling the pages concerned.

On the day the section came out, he summoned her in a towering rage. "This is in the wrong section! We look stupid for running this! How could you?"

"But—but you approved it!" Sakura held up the proofs, on which Syaoran's initial was visible.

"Never mind that," he snapped. "You should have caught the error."

"But Mina told me to..."

"Can't you use your own judgment? Now you want to point at Mina?"

"But I..."

"But, but, but. I don't want excuses, Kinomoto!"

Sakura's mouth opened, but nothing came out. She was grateful for when Syaoran abruptly dismissed her, and she hid in the bathroom to calm down.

One person saw her go in, and decided the time was ripe for worse action.

Soon, people looked at Sakura with barely disguised malice. She'd gotten used to it over time, but it didn't get easier. She knew they were celebrating her 'downfall' from Syaoran's good graces.

These days, she sent one of her assistants, Mari, up with the proofs, not wanting to face Syaoran that day. His cold and cruel streak had kept up over the past few weeks, and she couldn't take it, not especially now when she was considering accepting Yasu's proposal

She knew it was a mistake; she no longer was in love with Yasu, and he wanted a trophy wife to show to his office. But his work would transfer them around Asia: Hong Kong, Bangkok, Phnom Penh. It meant she would have to resign from the JB.

It meant leaving Syaoran behind.

She remembered his words from long ago: do you want to live a life without love?

No, she did not. But what she wanted and what options were open to her were two different things.

"Ooh did you hear?" Mei Ling, her senior assistant, rushed over. "Li-sama is transfering us to the newly opened Internet section!"

"Internet?" Sakura gasped. Why hadn't he told her himself since he was, after all, her direct boss?

Mei Ling continued babbling happily. "Online is the future! Oh God, Sakura-san, you have to hear all my plans! We'll have videos, blogs, link exchanges with big sites, internet-only content... We can have our own pool of writers!"

Sakura smiled, and directed the girl to list her ideas. Mei Ling was ready to command a section on her own, she mused.

And perhaps it was time to give the girl that chance.

At home, alone, eating a microwave dinner she did not taste, Sakura thought about her options. Syaoran had grown progressively rude, cold, and distant. Sometimes it was like he had turned into someone else entirely; once, sending him a message asking him about an interview she had been assigned to take, she was shocked to receive the response, "Who's this?"

Closing her eyes, Sakura breathed in and out quietly. As a child she had always found it easy to cry, and her brother had encouraged it. "Get it out of your system, kaijuu," he would tease, but he would stay and make sure she felt better. Her dad Fujitaka would make no comment but he would make a special treat for dinner, or slip something nice into her bento box.

When they had died abruptly, Sakura had found that remembering the good times with them helped her cope. So she tried remembering the times when she and Syaoran had been—could she call it 'together'?

But instead of wrapping her in a warm, happy cocoon, the memories, when compared against the Syaoran who was with her now—if it could be called that—sliced at her. They mocked at her; she could not reconcile the Syaoran she used to have food fights with, with the one who finally ended eating out with her with the brutal message, "I don't have time. Stop asking me," the last time she asked.

She touched the tiny Hello Kitty brooch he had brought back from Hong Kong. Had it only been a few months since that? She'd been delighted that he remembered what she was fond of, and it wasn't too expensive, but it showed how well he knew what she liked.

Maybe it was all just an illusion? Maybe he had just been nice to ease her into the office. Maybe he'd just been toying with her.

Sakura looked out the window at the falling snow and then down at the small box Yasu had given her. The engagement ring. Perhaps it was time to accept, after all.

She wished she could cry, because she felt crying would bring back that warm feeling inside of her. All she felt inside was a coldness, like a child who's been left at an orphanage and is told, "No one is coming for you, now stop pretending someone will."

Well, if she could not cry then there were other things she could do. And Sakura quietly began the preparations so that she could not turn back, not even if she wanted to.

"What?" Syaoran asked, irritated. He hated being interrupted when he was trying to coordinate the JB's new workflow. In an attempt to prevent layoffs, Syaoran had cut overtimes, reduced hours, and clamped down on goofing off in the office.

He was tired. And without Sakura's comforting presence, he was floundering. He needed her, more than ever, but in accordance with his unspoken agreement with Eriol, he had avoided Sakura. It was all for the best, he told himself. And he had begun treating her badly; he needed to keep the suspicions of Mina and Eriol off him, and it seemed to be working.

So why did it hurt so much when she in turn began avoiding him as well?

"Li-san," Sakura said quietly.

Syaoran was surprised; he hadn't seen her since he'd moved her to the Internet section. It ran smoothly, a testament to her capabilities, and he'd simply pushed the thought of her out of his mind the past few weeks. She looked beautiful as ever, but she had lost weight, her green eyes were somewhat dull, and her face was a bit pale. Was she all right?

Then he remembered himself. Don't show weakness, he admonished himself, and he snapped out a curt, "What is it? Quickly, now. Don't waste my time."

Sakura flinched, but stepped towards his large desk and placed a folder on it. "Since I'm at management level, I don't need to give two week's notice, but I still am. Mei Ling is taking over my section, and the details are in the folder."

A long silence, then Syaoran asked, "Why the hell are you resigning?" He almost winced; the statement came out harsher than he intended.

"I'm getting married." Sakura was proud that her voice didn't quaver at the lie. "After the holiday rush."

"Ah." Syaoran would never know how he managed to keep his face straight; he wanted to scream at her, he wanted to throttle her, he wanted to kiss her. He'd expected her to resign, yes...but not to suddenly get married!

A small diamond ring gleamed on her hand, and he thought, if I had given that to you, it would be a more beautiful band, a more brilliant diamond.

And I would never have cheated on you with a bimbo. I would have loved you for every man who did not love you, and...

And I am a coward. Forgive me.

"Why so quick?" was all Syaoran asked.

"We've known each other, Yasu and I, for so long. Might as well," Sakura shrugged.

Syaoran lost it, though his voice was still calm. "Oh, I see. So you chose not to be alone, even if your heart isn't in it." He swiveled his chair so he wouldn't be facing her anymore.

Is he sneering at me? Sakura wondered. She almost decided not to go through with what she had planned, but she swallowed then placed something else on his table.

"For you, Li-san," she said quietly. "Sorry for taking up your time, and thank you for everything." She quietly slipped out of his office.

Syaoran sat staring at the wall for a few minutes, angry, hurt, and confused. What was the point of her coming to see him then? And, 'Li-san'? What had happened to Syaoran?

He stood up and began to pace in front of his huge office window. The folder with her papers was on his desk, and angrily, he swept it to the floor. "Damn her!"

Something clattered and tinkled, and Syaoran bent down to retrieve it. He gasped; it was her engagement ring, and a note.

Syaoran-Hands, I hope you will forgive that I did not return your present from Hong Kong. It's the only reminder I have of you, and it means a lot to me. Even if you never felt the same way, I wish it had been you. Have a good life, and be happy. If there is still a chance that somewhere in your life there is room for me, I'll wait a little bit outside your office window, but if you choose to ignore me, I understand. Yours for the last time, Sakura-Puppy.

No, Syaoran thought, and he looked out the window. He could see Sakura standing in the snow, looking up at his window. From her angle, he knew she could not see him, and yet he waved at her, screaming at her to wait. He took the stairs two at a time, running frantically, scaring the guards when he barrelled out, sweater-less, into the snow.

"Sakura!" He screamed her name over and over as he ran to the corner where she had been standing.

"Sakura!" She wasn't there anymore.

He looked around frantically; the snow had picked up in intensity and was whirling about him with blinding force, biting painfully at his exposed skin. He hailed a passing cab, and screamed out Sakura's address, scaring the driver.

Once they arrived, he flung several thousand yen at the driver, who was glad to be rid of his strange, frantic passenger, and pounded on her door.

A "For Rent" sign dropped to Syaoran's feet. He picked it up, and stared at it for a long time.

It was two weeks before he was discharged from the hospital; he picked up a respiratory infection as he'd stood in the snow for over an hour, numb and unseeing.

It took two months for Syaoran to move out of his family's home, telling his mother and Eriol to go fuck themselves, and to start up a successful business of his own. He broke up the engagement with Nirina and fired Filimina before he left the JB.

It was two years before the scandal of the Li heir disinheriting himself died down in Japan.

(Five years later)

"Will you marry me?"

Sakura stared into the gentle hazel eyes of the man sitting across her. She made no reply but smiled.

"I know you don't love me that way," he continued, "but I do love you, Sakura, and I would like to take care of you. I know your heart may never be mine, but I am willing to live with that if you allow me the honor of being the one to love you."

Sakura sighed. "And what kind of a marriage would that be? It would be unfair to you, Akihiro," she said.

He smiled and ran his hands through his wavy black hair. "It would be a marriage of two people who are trying to understand the world," he said gently as he took her hand. "I think I understand you, and I confess that even that kind of a marriage would make me happy. You're not the kind of woman who is happy unloved," he said. "You aren't happy alone."

Sakura felt it; a soft burning need in her heart. Ahikiro was a gentle man; he had been her consolation when she first left Japan five years ago, and had been a steady, soothing presence in her life. She wanted to run to him, to let him take care of her and give her the comfort of his love. But...

"I can't use you like that," Sakura said quietly.

"Then think of it this way," Akihiro smiled. "You're not using me, you're making me happy. I know you don't want to be alone, but I also know that the one your heart belongs to cannot be yours. Perhaps if you took a chance on me, maybe someday you might learn to love me. And even if that day never comes, I believe I can love enough for both of us. Think about it, Sakura," he said.

There was no pleading in Akihiro's eyes, just a kind smile. Sakura was tired of being alone, of taking care of herself, and she wavered.

"You have to give me some time," she said.

"I understand," Akihiro said. "Come, let's get some custard," he said, as he rose and took her hand. He then began to laugh happily. "Custard tastes better when you have it with someone you love. Perhaps someday we'll have custard together, and it will be the best in the world for you."

"Akihiro—I can't lead you on. You know how I feel—you know what happened to me in Japan."

For an answer he hugged her. "I love everything about you, and if I scare you then I shall back off. But I can feel that you need me, so please let me be here for you."

He took so much joy just from being with Sakura, and she knew it. He cared for her, had practically taken her in when she first arrived in Hong Kong, and now, he was proposing to care for her the rest of their lives.

It couldn't be so bad to be married to him, Sakura thought.

And remembered a time five years earlier when she had thought that about Yasu.

She had broken it off with him; to her surprise he hadn't reacted. When he'd married a rich heiress barely two months later, she had her answer. He had been waiting for it.

Now Akihiro stood before her. With jet-black hair that came in unruly but attractive waves, large hazel eyes, and a tall, muscular frame, he was quite handsome. He'd made no secret of his feelings for her, and had patiently stood by her all the five years she had been working with him.

Sometimes what we want is right in front of us, she thought, and we never realize it until it's gone.

No. She looked into his eyes; he calmly stood there and let her think, focusing her gaze on him.

She realized she could not go through the pain of losing his friendship. Losing Syaoran had been the worst; had it not been for Akihiro quietly comforting her without knowing the full story, forcing her to eat and helping her face the world... where would she be now?

Maybe the custard will taste good tonight, she told herself.

Smiling, Sakura nodded, and he led her to the custard bar that he frequented. And, surprisingly, the custard did taste good, and they enjoyed themselves.

Sakura remembered how to laugh as he fed her slivers of chocolate custard and joked lightly. Akihiro was a warm, gentle person, and she felt that perhaps it was time to let herself step towards the warmth of his love.

"The custard tastes good," she said softly, and when Akihiro smiled, she smiled happily back at him. Perhaps it was time to give love another chance.

Syaoran bit his lips; his fists clenched unconsciously. He'd been trying to track her down since that December morning that he had lost her. He hated the word "if" because it haunted him now. If he'd realized what she was trying to say sooner. If he'd been more open, more brave, more selfless. If he'd just moved faster. If he had been a little more loving and a lot less prideful. If.

Sakura's best friend Tomoyo Daidouji had flatly refused to tell him where she was, and had moved out and changed her number. When he had last talked to her, she had merely eyed him disdainfully and said, "Like you care," turned her back on him, and slammed the door on him.

Begging and pleading were things Syaoran could never do, and when he finally conquered his pride to try that on Daidouji, he could no longer trace her.

"Damn," he whispered, more to himself than anything else. He knew she was in Hong Kong, and the memory of that one phone call, five years ago when they both were still as innocent as they could be as adults, that one carefree walk through Hong Kong in which he had finally managed to tell her he loved her only to have the fates step in and cut the call, tugged painfully at his emotions. He wondered if he'd had anything to do with her decision to go here.

He snorted. Yeah right, Li, like she would still care for you after what you put her through.

One man, tall, dark, and with a very serious yet handsome face, approached the women clustered near the grand staircase. His eyes were an unusual shade of hazel, and for some reason, he riveted Syaoran's attention. He couldn't see to whom the man was speaking, but he seemed to be asking one of the ladies something.

Then moved away to let one of the women pass, and he saw her.

It couldn't be, could it?

But it was. Sakura, in a sleek black dress that flared lovingly around her now mature but still slender curves.

He stared. In five years, she still looked the same as she ever had...beautiful.

She never wore black before, Syaoran thought. The string of pearls on her neck set it off beautifully, yet the black...he had always associated her with color, bright happy colors.

It drove home the point that she was so different. Her steps were weighted with reality's sorrows as they had never been before. She seemed more mature, but much less happy than before.

Oh, if he had only denied his family sooner. If had chased her faster, longer, harder. If he had fought for the love he now openly admitted to having taken root deep in his heart.

He stared in wonder, feeling stuck to the spot.

The unknown man whispered something to her, then Sakura happened to glance back just before leaving his line of sight.

Time stopped.

Her bright emerald eyes widened and then relaxed quickly. He stared at her desperately, trying to make her understand. He was here.

And he was here only to find her. Nothing more.

Simply in staring, he felt his love for her, bottled up for so many long years, bubble to the top again, almost overflowing.

And she sent the stare right back. A glorious mixture of sadness, happiness, and the love he had always desired from her was expressed through just one look.

Then, a group of people walked right past Syaoran, several of them pausing to wave and chatter at friends. His eye contact was lost and good manners forbade Syaoran from pushing all those people away. He elbowed his way through them in desperation.

When he broke clear of them, Sakura was no longer there.

He continued to stare for a moment, but then realized this could be his final chance. He ran through the crowd, ignoring all bystanders, ignoring everything. Nothing mattered but that vision of her imprinted on his mind.

Syaoran found himself standing in the gardens of a beautiful mansion, the party's location. Left, right, and left again. She was nowhere.

Defeated, Syaoran let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding, and knelt slowly on the path.

He'd seen her. She'd seen him. And the love he'd been chasing for so many long years… one he'd lost through his own foolishness, pride, and stupidity. He'd found it, only to have her swiped from beneath his very nose by another. No doubt she was married by now to that odd man, as she should be. And he should have been married long ago to someone he didn't love but could cherish as though he did, rather than chasing this foolish dream.

His heart, having taken flight again for the first time in what felt like centuries, had crashed to the ground. But in the knowledge that he had flown at all, he felt neither better nor worse, but both. He could never fly again, but would always have that beautiful memory of doing so.

The end.

Wow. Nearly two years to complete this? My apologies.

Thanks for reading. Are you interested in a sequel? I've sort of got a sequel for this in my mind, but it would be a waste to write it if no one is interested. Pretty much it's a darker fic than this.

Proposed Summary: Sakura is torn between her gentle, loving husband Akihiro and the once-faithless Syaoran, who is trying to win her back.

I've always wondered about fics like this and it might be interesting to explore. Just drop me a review if you're interested ^_^