storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-05-22 03:28 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-05-22 03:28 pm
Out of Time (Clow/Yuuko)
Title: Out of Time
Fandom: xxxHOLiC/TRC
Length: 1216
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chibidl, who lets me rant at her, and everyone whose theories I have read recently with too much interest. Spoilers for most recent chapters of xH and TRC both (180 and 220).
Excerpt: He knew he'd spend the rest of his life apologizing to her, after that, but the worst part was that she didn't ask him to. She demanded apologies for the tiniest things in comparison.
He first came to her because he saw something looming in the future-- something huge-- something he wouldn't be present for. A magician should not predict his own future, but sometimes the visions came, unbidden, and sometimes, if one was strong enough, one saw further than that, beyond one's own death to the far future (or lack thereof).
He saw two smiling faces-- one white, one black-- and he saw Sakura, his dear Sakura, and even if she wasn't the one who was his heir, he could not help but love her.
So Clow went to see Yuuko, and that was the irony of it, because if they hadn't met, this whole mess wouldn't have happened.
Sometimes, foresight can be more awful than one can imagine.
*
He knew the power of wishes, and he never made one with her. A magician should not predict his own future, but there was nothing stopping him from reading hers, even when he didn't want to. The visions came unbidden, undesired, even when he knocked them off guard with alcohol.
She'd been known as the Witch of Dimensions even before they'd met; she had a reputation as the strongest magician in Japan until he'd arrived, the strongest mage from China. He suspected it made her a little resentful at first. Yuuko liked to be superior, and with most men she was.
(She was superior to him, too. He knew she would have let him die, even with her heart breaking.)
He entered her shop without using the gate. There was another way to enter, if one didn't have a wish, and he pulled apart the possibilities until he found it, and ended up slipping, rather undignified, out of her well.
She laughed at him, and he was utterly enamoured. From then on, he did whatever he could to earn another giggle.
*
Clow had learned to walk lightly in the world, to see here-and-now through his glasses and not then-and-never through his eyes. He was constantly reigning in, without even a second thought. He knew his anger could level worlds.
He hadn't known his sadness could stop time.
*
He knew he'd spend the rest of his life apologizing to her, after that, but the worst part was that she didn't ask him to. She demanded apologies for the tiniest things in comparison-- his audacity in stealing the last glass of wine, his tendency to ramble on with stories that were in no part true, his daring to wake her up before noon.
Instead of being angry, she was horribly practical. She set her lips and asked him, "What are we going to do about this?" Taken off balance, he stammered the beginnings of an answer and she began to write it down, dripping blood on the paper as if she didn't care.
He only let her write for a few moments before he picked her up, gently, took her into the bath, and stripped away her tattered kimono. She fell asleep in the steamy water and he sat there, head bowed, and watched so that she didn't slip beneath the surface.
"I'm sorry," he whispered like a prayer, but she didn't answer, sighing in her sleep.
*
The first time he tried to apologize when they were both conscious and sober, she pretended not to know what he was talking about. When he explained, she turned away from him, rescuing the bit of distance between them that remained.
"You didn't mean it," she said, shrugging, and he wasn't sure which was more painful-- the false casualness of the gesture, or her words.
Of course he'd meant it. To do something like that without meaning it would have been impossible, even with his power.
He reached out and grabbed her chin, turning her to face him. He knew she hated it when he did that, and her eyes were bright with anger.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said.
"You never do," she whispered under her breath, escaping him and striding across the room. He watched her pale legs flash in the half-darkness of the shop, and still, still, he couldn't help but smile.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, but somewhere, deep down, he couldn't regret what he'd done, either. It was, he believed, the most selfish feeling he'd ever had.
(Actually, it was the second most selfish, because it had been: I wish she would open her eyes again, and he had meant, for me.)
*
"Is it a tendency of you and your relatives to go mucking up time, or just characteristic Li stupidity and stubbornness?" she asked acidly, taking a long drag at her pipe.
"A bit of both," he said cheerfully as she rose, slowly, from the divan and brushed ash from her dress. It was soft and flowy, pink, and one of his favorites on her. He thought it made her look like an elf or a fairy, though the pipe ruined that illusion a little.
"If I do this," she pointed out, "then how will you finish setting up for your little heir?"
"It's only a few years," he said. "I'll come back here for the end of it."
"And how will you pay for that?" she asked softly.
"Only one of them needs to remember who I am," he said, meeting her eyes but feeling a bit ashamed.
"That price won't work for you," she said, bending over, setting down her pipe, picking up the chalk, etching a careful circle into the floor. She didn't usually bother with the physical representation, he knew. He wondered if it was something to do with not wanting to meet his eyes. His own gaze wandered over the characters for Clow country (and it wouldn't have been Clow country even without his interference; he doesn't know how much he likes knowing that one simple visit long ago made so much influence on a desert city's founder).
"I'll work it out with them. With him," she said, stubbing and breaking the chalk, and then swearing under her breath. She finished the rest in long, sharp strokes.
"Yuuko...," he said, hesitantly, as she rose and gestured at him to step into place.
"Hmm?" she replied, finding the right place to put her own feet.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The circle began to glow and the wind whipped up around them, blowing her hair in the wind so that she looked even more like a fairy-- or a butterfly, her favorite. And then she smiled.
"Emotions are the only things that can be freely given. Don't apologize for them," she said. "Still..."
"The dream must end," he said, reaching out, brushing her cheek.
"Wake up," she said, and the world turned white and blurred away.
"What?"
"Huh?" Yuuko said, in a voice groggy from sleep. Clow opened his eyes, then, to a dark room, disoriented. He fumbled for his glasses and tried to figure out what time it was, in more ways than one.
"You were talking in your sleep," she grumbled, turning over and pressing her back into his stomach, in a clear encouragement for him to be quiet and spoon.
He put his arm around her obediently, pressing his head into her neck and listening as her breathing slowed and she went back to sleep.
He smelled her hair and wondered how long they had before that dream came true.
Fandom: xxxHOLiC/TRC
Length: 1216
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: Dedicated to
chibidl, who lets me rant at her, and everyone whose theories I have read recently with too much interest. Spoilers for most recent chapters of xH and TRC both (180 and 220).Excerpt: He knew he'd spend the rest of his life apologizing to her, after that, but the worst part was that she didn't ask him to. She demanded apologies for the tiniest things in comparison.
He first came to her because he saw something looming in the future-- something huge-- something he wouldn't be present for. A magician should not predict his own future, but sometimes the visions came, unbidden, and sometimes, if one was strong enough, one saw further than that, beyond one's own death to the far future (or lack thereof).
He saw two smiling faces-- one white, one black-- and he saw Sakura, his dear Sakura, and even if she wasn't the one who was his heir, he could not help but love her.
So Clow went to see Yuuko, and that was the irony of it, because if they hadn't met, this whole mess wouldn't have happened.
Sometimes, foresight can be more awful than one can imagine.
*
He knew the power of wishes, and he never made one with her. A magician should not predict his own future, but there was nothing stopping him from reading hers, even when he didn't want to. The visions came unbidden, undesired, even when he knocked them off guard with alcohol.
She'd been known as the Witch of Dimensions even before they'd met; she had a reputation as the strongest magician in Japan until he'd arrived, the strongest mage from China. He suspected it made her a little resentful at first. Yuuko liked to be superior, and with most men she was.
(She was superior to him, too. He knew she would have let him die, even with her heart breaking.)
He entered her shop without using the gate. There was another way to enter, if one didn't have a wish, and he pulled apart the possibilities until he found it, and ended up slipping, rather undignified, out of her well.
She laughed at him, and he was utterly enamoured. From then on, he did whatever he could to earn another giggle.
*
Clow had learned to walk lightly in the world, to see here-and-now through his glasses and not then-and-never through his eyes. He was constantly reigning in, without even a second thought. He knew his anger could level worlds.
He hadn't known his sadness could stop time.
*
He knew he'd spend the rest of his life apologizing to her, after that, but the worst part was that she didn't ask him to. She demanded apologies for the tiniest things in comparison-- his audacity in stealing the last glass of wine, his tendency to ramble on with stories that were in no part true, his daring to wake her up before noon.
Instead of being angry, she was horribly practical. She set her lips and asked him, "What are we going to do about this?" Taken off balance, he stammered the beginnings of an answer and she began to write it down, dripping blood on the paper as if she didn't care.
He only let her write for a few moments before he picked her up, gently, took her into the bath, and stripped away her tattered kimono. She fell asleep in the steamy water and he sat there, head bowed, and watched so that she didn't slip beneath the surface.
"I'm sorry," he whispered like a prayer, but she didn't answer, sighing in her sleep.
*
The first time he tried to apologize when they were both conscious and sober, she pretended not to know what he was talking about. When he explained, she turned away from him, rescuing the bit of distance between them that remained.
"You didn't mean it," she said, shrugging, and he wasn't sure which was more painful-- the false casualness of the gesture, or her words.
Of course he'd meant it. To do something like that without meaning it would have been impossible, even with his power.
He reached out and grabbed her chin, turning her to face him. He knew she hated it when he did that, and her eyes were bright with anger.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said.
"You never do," she whispered under her breath, escaping him and striding across the room. He watched her pale legs flash in the half-darkness of the shop, and still, still, he couldn't help but smile.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, but somewhere, deep down, he couldn't regret what he'd done, either. It was, he believed, the most selfish feeling he'd ever had.
(Actually, it was the second most selfish, because it had been: I wish she would open her eyes again, and he had meant, for me.)
*
"Is it a tendency of you and your relatives to go mucking up time, or just characteristic Li stupidity and stubbornness?" she asked acidly, taking a long drag at her pipe.
"A bit of both," he said cheerfully as she rose, slowly, from the divan and brushed ash from her dress. It was soft and flowy, pink, and one of his favorites on her. He thought it made her look like an elf or a fairy, though the pipe ruined that illusion a little.
"If I do this," she pointed out, "then how will you finish setting up for your little heir?"
"It's only a few years," he said. "I'll come back here for the end of it."
"And how will you pay for that?" she asked softly.
"Only one of them needs to remember who I am," he said, meeting her eyes but feeling a bit ashamed.
"That price won't work for you," she said, bending over, setting down her pipe, picking up the chalk, etching a careful circle into the floor. She didn't usually bother with the physical representation, he knew. He wondered if it was something to do with not wanting to meet his eyes. His own gaze wandered over the characters for Clow country (and it wouldn't have been Clow country even without his interference; he doesn't know how much he likes knowing that one simple visit long ago made so much influence on a desert city's founder).
"I'll work it out with them. With him," she said, stubbing and breaking the chalk, and then swearing under her breath. She finished the rest in long, sharp strokes.
"Yuuko...," he said, hesitantly, as she rose and gestured at him to step into place.
"Hmm?" she replied, finding the right place to put her own feet.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The circle began to glow and the wind whipped up around them, blowing her hair in the wind so that she looked even more like a fairy-- or a butterfly, her favorite. And then she smiled.
"Emotions are the only things that can be freely given. Don't apologize for them," she said. "Still..."
"The dream must end," he said, reaching out, brushing her cheek.
"Wake up," she said, and the world turned white and blurred away.
"What?"
"Huh?" Yuuko said, in a voice groggy from sleep. Clow opened his eyes, then, to a dark room, disoriented. He fumbled for his glasses and tried to figure out what time it was, in more ways than one.
"You were talking in your sleep," she grumbled, turning over and pressing her back into his stomach, in a clear encouragement for him to be quiet and spoon.
He put his arm around her obediently, pressing his head into her neck and listening as her breathing slowed and she went back to sleep.
He smelled her hair and wondered how long they had before that dream came true.
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no subject
It's going to be a while. I think we're not expecting the next xH until the end of June.