AN: Wrote this a long time ago.

Summary: AU Lorelei can be cruel sometimes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of the Abyss.

Sky-scraper

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

"Wake…Asch…Can…hear me…?"

A voice, he thought, so melodious. Like a lullaby, sweetly calling his name. It sounded so familiar, on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't place where. It was killing him. He groped around in the dark, trying to catch those sweet words with his hands as if they were something tangible, but they kept slipping away, just beyond his fingertips.

Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was a flash of silver-steel and a marble floor splashed with red, red blood. He remembered not being able to lift his head anymore and drifting off to the thought of pinky promises and sword fights long lost. Then his world became silent, and the sound of running water as recognizable as his name resounded through his ears before being replaced by that euphonious voice as clear as fresh water from a mountain spring.

"Asch, wake up!"

He opened his eyes, slightly put off by the change of scenery. Sea-blue eyes tinted lightly with worry filled his vision, and, still groggy with sleep, he wondered vaguely if he had drowned. And then, reality and common sense crashed onto him like a giant wave and he gasped for a breath that never came.

Tear watched him calmly as he ran one hand through his hair and clutched the other tightly against his stomach. He gave no explanation to why he was there, and Tear had no incentive to be given any. He wasn't the one she was waiting for, nor she for him. He was a ghost of what he formerly was when he was alive, still solid-looking enough to be seen, but his outline seemed fuzzy around the edges and his color slightly faded. So when Tear had offered him a cup of tea, he politely declined.

"No thanks," he said gruffly, but not unkindly. He's still a little shaken up but had calmed down immensely. She nodded, placing his cup on the steps before raising her own steaming cup of herbal tea to her lips. An awkward silence hung onto the still air.

Why was he here?

She never went near Eldrant, refusing to go to his graveyard, blindly believing that if she never found the evidence, he was still out there. (Replicas don't leave a trace behind after they die anyway.) In her eyes, he was still alive, somewhere, bidding his time and worrying everyone because he was stupid like that.

But here Asch was, appearing out of nowhere in Yulia City. He was dead, his ghost-like appearance was proof of that. What if...

"Where is Luke?" she asked hesitantly, clenching the china tightly until her knuckles turned white. Asch abruptly turned his head away, staring intently instead at a patch of grass at the far corner of her garden. She watched his fingers curled tightly into a fist, his nails biting hard into his calloused palm.

When he looked back, he saw she was crying.

Asch breathed in deeply and exhaled. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear, which tingled pleasantly hot. He didn't know what he was apologizing for. There was a ringing in his ears that sounded suspiciously like waves crashing, but when he looked around there was nothing but dirt, stone, and Tear.

Not yet, Asch found himself wishing. Just a little longer.

He reached for her hand, guiding it toward his own, saying, "Come on, it's nearly morning," and somehow, amazingly, managed to lead her further down her garden without any contact.

He broke away from her and walked toward the flowers and dirt, brushing past them as if they were nothing to him. Tear said nothing as they both watched the sun slowly rise from the depths of the ocean, dying the world a pale periwinkle. Her fingertips lightly stroke the selenia petals, stealing glances when she thought he wasn't looking. He looked a little paler, a little more transparent, when it was so close to breaking dawn. When the light hit him just right, he almost looked alive, and he was seventeen again and she was sixteen. It was like nothing happened.

But something was wrong. A chill crept slowly down her spine like a rain drop.

"Asch?" Tear moved closer. He moved back.

His eyes caught sight of hers and then quickly averted its gaze toward the flowers: their silvery-white petals were closing as the sunlight came rushing in through the glass windows. He was half gone already. A third, a fourth; her lips were forming the words to make him stop when he turned to face her.

"He's coming home," he said, fading away just as she reached to grab his arm.

Sea foam gathered in the valley, with its cliff walls smoothed by its never-ending conflict with the waves. Long, grass strands swayed to the silent rhythm of the wind, and the air danced with fireflies. The moon was large and bright, and its twin sparkled in the water. Tear sat alone on a rock facing the ocean and scraped her palms against its grainy surface. She started singing, her voice softer than usual and drowned out by the noise of crashing waves. She didn't care anymore.

This was what she wanted.

She lost track of time after that. Minutes, hours, maybe even days passed before a lone silhouette appeared, standing against the brilliance of the moon, and she stopped. His long hair moved with the slightest breeze along with robes too pliable to be armor. He was silent and waiting for her first move. She licked her dry lips slowly and tried to catch her breath, filling her lungs with air tinged with seasalt. Still tentative, still hoping, she opened her mouth and somehow managed to ask, "Are you...?"

Even as her words died off, his soft, emerald eyes showed both sorrow and understanding, and he opened his mouth and said the very words that somehow broke her heart and mended it at the same time:

"Yes, I'm Luke.