Displaced A X/1999 Alternate Universe story Sephy Chapter One 'Passion chokes the flower until she cries no more Possessing all the beauty hungry still for more.' -- Sarah McLachlan Kasumi Karen was not a big believer in Destiny. Given everything she'd been through in her life, both before and after 1999, that no doubt would strike some as funny, certainly ironic all things considered but it was true. There was something -- a force no doubt that pushed every human being down a path, whether you wanted to call it God or Buddha or what have you. Maybe it was little more than the human heart, but it did exist and more people had died in the entirety of human history because of those tides, that spark of belief that birthed religions and began wars, an ocean of crimson soaked so deep in the earth that the stain could never be erased. There was a will and a desire that went beyond conscious thought and it connected every creature on this earth, a will to survive, to continue on and ensure that others did so as well. In human beings, this desire was taken to new levels, leading to great civilizations and to utter wreck and ruin and she'd spent enough time reading of late to give herself a headache on the matter to let herself believe either blindly or in nothing at all. God did take care of people but only of those who took care of themselves first. He was, after all, a busy man and like all busy men she knew, wasn't one to be bothered with trifles. Be that as it may, she didn't believe everything was all decided. She couldn't because in that case, it took human will out of the equation entirely and that seemed to contradict everything she believed in, everything she took as truth. There was a path and there was a push towards it, yes but whether one chose to take that particular road or not wasn't decided. Not until the first step was taken, followed by another, and then another. One choice led to another but an alternate choice could also do no less. That was what it came down to really, choices -- the ones people made, the ones they didn't. The choice to get up in the morning, the choice to not get up. The decision to color your hair a certain way or walk down one street instead of another. Tiny, often seemingly inconsequential choices that should change nothing at all and yet you might find your Prince Charming down that patch of road. Or not. Maybe there was nothing to begin with and you missed him the first time around because you changed course. This was all well and good but it only confirmed something she'd known for a long time-- Plum wine did not agree with her in the slightest and was apt to make her both maudlin and existential and neither was a state she preferred. But that too, was a choice, just like having attended that stupid party she'd cared nothing for, because Nozomi had asked in his own sweet, inept way, tiny beads of sweat breaking out on his brow as if he thought she'd turn him down. Karen smiled humorlessly, tapping her scarlet nails against painted lips as she existed the elevator, feeling a tad light but that was all right. She was not so drunk she couldn't hold the floor beneath her (and she made it a point to never, ever be that out of control). But -- Oh yes, Nozomi. Most men in his position would have little qualms about telling their paid mistress about where they expected her to be, what they expected her to wear, and how she was to behave but he -- well, he acted like a junior high student, sheepish and abashed, as if he thought she, she of all people, would judge him harshly. If he hadn't been so genuine in his discomfort she would have thought it a very poor joke indeed. That was just the way he was though, flighty and ill at ease, wanting her company and yet seemingly intimidated by her, as if he wasn't certain what he'd gotten himself into even after setting her up in an apartment and with a fairly nice bank account. That made two of them. She sighed, digging around in her beaded bag as she came to her door, the minor irritation of other things in the way, the round of a compact or the fine teeth of a brush, some how much more aggravating now, biting off a swear as she closed her fingers around her quarry -- and nearly broke her nail on her keychain. She held it up, inspecting first the nail (which was chipped, dammit) and the keychain, a gaudy, bulbous affair with sparkles that Yuzuriha had given her the last time they'd seen each other. It wasn't the most elegant decoration in the world but she couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes each time she looked at it. Yuzuriha meant well and she'd be lying if she said she didn't look forward to the packages she sent, rambling letters filled with all sorts of souvenirs and tales about the shrine she and Kusanagi were now entrusted with. Shrine, she nearly snorted. Try an odd mix of animal farm/holy temple and you might be hitting closer to the ballpark, neither of the former Dragons standing on much ceremony. She was fairly sure that it was still something of a shock to the monks who were used to solemnity and a certain amount of decorous behavior of which Yuzuriha exhibited not in the slightest. Anyone else might have gotten smacked for it, but the former Seal was just too damn exuberant and… kind to crush. That and Karen suspected the gargantuan man ever looming just over her shoulder had something to do with whatever reluctant acceptance had set in. 'That's a man I'd not like to get on the wrong side of,' she acknowledged. Of course they'd all been on the wrong side of him or rather the opposite side, during that fateful year but Kusanagi unlike some of his fellow Angels had no taste for human blood. He wasn't especially fond of the way humans acted towards one another or the Earth but left to his own devices he would probably have started a tree farm or become a park ranger or something somewhere, drawing as close to the nature he loved as he could. It was only circumstances that had decided otherwise. And Yuzuriha who had helped him maintain some sort of hope in humanity at all. They made an unlikely pair those two, but she wished them much joy of each other, wishing it could have been as easy for the rest of the Dragons. So many dead and others lost, walking paths that seemed doom to forever keep them separate. Subaru. Fuuma. Kamui. She dropped her keys, trying to keep balance on unsteady legs as she knelt down to get them, apparently not doing the job well enough as she fell, flat on her ass, knocking a sharp cry out of her. Catching her hand on the carpet, she sat there, trying to sort herself out and feeling like a damned fool in the process, grateful Nozomi in some mad rush of unexpected generosity hadn't just bought her the apartment, he'd bought the entire floor, because she really wasn't sure she could take being gawked at or petted right now. Reaching down, she removed her heels, feet aching around the edges, new leather having dug in deep, leaving pinkish stretch marks dark against sheer black nylon. Thank God her skirt had a tiny slit or else she'd be showing off more than just an ample bit of thigh with the haphazard way she was sitting. Touching her face, she felt gritty, soaked to the bone with cigarette smoke and the rich, filthy scent of beer staining her, smile fixed from having been used so long. More than gritty she felt -- old. It should have been enough to make her laugh at her own vanity but instead she passed her hands over her eyes, trying to breathe in and feeling tears rise, threatening to stick as her mascara caught, almost gelling. She'd cried enough in her life, more than most people and she had no desire to spend another day trying to reduce puffy eyelids, weeping over things that had already come and gone, chances that would never be redeemed. Chances missed before they'd even begun. Seiichirou. 'You're a fool, Kasumi Karen, a goddamn fool and a touch tipsy, too.' She reached upward, catching her hands around the knob and dragging herself upright, shoes abandoned. Let them stay out here all night -- it wasn't as if anyone was going to come around to collect them save maybe Nozumi and he would hand them back, meek as always, anxious to be helpful. She'd chosen him because of that, because he was dear and sweet and he reminded her of -- But he wasn't. No, not at all. No one could be Seiichirou and no one ever would be again, not until the end of the world. And having lived through that, even there was no real certainty there either. 'Time to face facts, darling. What you are is obsolete. Without a purpose.' It was all very well to spend your life preparing for the apocalypse but no one ever stopped to think of what would happen if they actually survived. As much as Karen would like to claim she had taken it for granted, she hadn't. She had hoped they would win, that humanity would somehow be granted a second chance but she hadn't planned on it. She hadn't planned on surviving it. And now that she had, she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Live obviously. But returning to the civilian life after so much epic excitement was positively prosaic. Or maybe it was just her. Neither Yuzuriha nor Kusanagi seemed to have that problem, blending back into seams of "normal" life with hardly any bumps at all. Of course, they also had each other and maybe that was what was missing for her. There was no one she could truly share her life with, no one who understood what it had meant to be a Seal, and (if she were being honest) no one in her life right now besides Yuzuriha and Kusanagi that she saw as an equal. Karen couldn't help but wonder when she had gotten so jaded and felt a slight tinge of disappointment that it had crept up so. If things kept up, she'd be positively misanthropic by the time she was forty. Letting herself in, she flipped the switch, the slow dawn of soft light filling the apartment, illuminating rich burgundy and gold trim walls, the hardwood floor of the entryway a dusky rosewood, each carved block ridged and tangible beneath stocking feet. The wonderful thing about having your own place was that you got to decorate it anyway you chose and she had spent almost two weeks after Nozumi had bought the place for her just redecorating, wallpapering and painting. It was something she could never have done at her old place but she was bought and paid for now and as such she figured she might just as well live in some manner of style. Bought and paid for. She threw her coat on one of the bar chairs, wondering what Seiichirou would think of that, if he would be disappointed in her. She hoped, liked to think, he would have understood had he been here but she knew as well as anyone the propensity of human beings to be overly judgmental. Of course if Seiichirou were still alive today, it was entirely possible that it wouldn't have mattered to him anyway -- he did have a wife and children of his own. Why should the fate of someone like Karen matter once the circumstances that had brought them together ended? 'And that, as they say, is bullshit,' she chided herself, rubbing her forehead, feeling a slight headache forming behind her eyes. She knew better than to think about Seiichirou at times like this and doubting him and his generosity not only wronged him but hurt her far worse than it should have. She needed to believe that the understanding between them had been real because it was the only thing she'd ever had of him, the only thing she would ever have now besides her own feelings and if she lost that -- Then he really would be dead. And maybe something of Karen would die, too. She glanced at the clock on the island just above her head. Half past two. Probably best to just give it up for the night and try to sleep. Thinking was only liable to worsen her mood and then she really would cry, whether she wanted to or not. First though -- first there was something she needed to do, something she'd hoped to have time to take care of earlier and hadn't, Nozumi's visit having caught her off-guard. Closing her eyes, Karen breathed in, centering herself, trying to clear away the vague unhappiness coupled with liquor which were cobwebbing her thoughts. True, it didn't require much concentration to teleport anymore but she tried to put some thought into it, into her destination so she didn't wind up somewhere off -- like the other side of Japan. Which had happened once, a very long time ago, and was the reason she still swore off sake. Were anyone to ask her what it was like, what it felt like to teleport, Karen would be forced to admit that it would be hard to put into words. Or in anything coherent beyond warmth, suffused through out her entire body, as if her skin had become nothing but pure light or flame, radiating from some inner core that sparked within. As a child, she'd called it 'the glow,' feeling as if she were lighter than air, a million fireflies beneath her skin, all of them waiting to be set free, waiting to fly. It was fanciful, a childish way of looking at things but it was still somehow apt. There was no jerky process like she'd read about in books. She thought and there she appeared, not disoriented or thrown in the slightest. It was like breathing. If she thought too long about it, then things got more complicated but so long as she knew where she was going, there was really nothing to worry about at all aside from enjoying the trip. There were no flowers this time, she hadn't the time to pick them up earlier so she'd have to make it up to him with two bouquets the next time she dropped in. This -- this was just a quick visit to wish him a good night and then she could drop off to sleep, secure in the knowledge she'd done all she could for him. Right. Had that been true, he might have been here with her now. He. Him. He was the only one Karen thought of directly only on the rarest of occasions, as if by his name alone, all the guilt would come rushing back, a wealth of which she tried to bury, telling herself that like Seiichirou, he wouldn't have wanted it that way. He. Kamui. Kamui…Kamui hurt in a different way from Seiichirou, cutting her deeply with each visit because it was driven home just how hopeless things must have seemed for him at the end. It was something she wouldn't have understood at the time but now…after so long, after having the opportunity to dwell and to work through that year, to sift through the wreckage, she thought perhaps she might have an inkling, after all. Seiichirou at least had been given the opportunity to live. To have family and friends and Kamui -- In the end, everything had been taken from him. Friends, family, love -- even his life, leaving behind only a body, saved by quick action and panicked thinking. Saved but not there to enjoy his victory, not there to enjoy what he had won -- his freedom. His freedom and the freedom of every other person on the planet, the right to choose how their lives would be lived. His betrayal had come at the hands of the two people he held closest to him -- Fuuma out of misdirected rage and misunderstanding and Subaru because he hadn't been able to rouse himself, not in time. And when he had -- things had gone too far, his chance missed and Kamui's along with it. She hadn't seen either man since that day, Fuuma having returned to keep Tokagushi shrine and Subaru … Well, she'd heard the faintest of whispers of the Sakurazukamori, enough to know that he still lived, and despite her curiosity, she had steered clear of him, half afraid of what her own feelings would be at seeing him again. Subaru had always followed his own heart even if he'd never understood it, and it was not for her to judge his choices right or not. Still, she wished things had turned out differently. She wished -- As the hospital room materialized, giving her eyes a moment to adjust as it colors swam then coalesced before her, she realized two things. One, maybe she'd had far more to drink than she'd thought because her coordination was shot to all hell as her eyes widened, tripping over herself to fall oh so gracefully on her ass again. It seemed to be a theme for the evening and her lower back and rear were protesting the repeat performance. The next was, it was possible to feel someone walking all over your grave because she was feeling it right now, as if a million impertinent feet were stomping all over her, delivering a good swift kick to the stomach as golden eyes met violet. Violet eyes which were alive and awake and open for the first time in three years, staring down at her as if he--as if Kamui, didn't know what to make of her at all. She made a sound or tried to, tried to form words but all she could do was feel her jaw drop, as if it had broken, slack and ungraceful as he straightened from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, IV cords in one hand while he used the other to prop himself up with the other. "I--" She managed then fell silent again, the word too loud, feeling almost screamed in the utter silence and Karen wondered if the point where the nurse stormed in to bitch her out for being in the room after visiting hours would be the moment she woke up, most likely with a bit of a hangover, eyes and head aching in protest. His eyes drifted over here and though she had never forgotten their unusual shading, three years had been enough to dull their vibrancy in her mind. It was too dark to really see them, to see them properly but there was just enough light filtering in from other sources that they seemed to glitter at her, taking her measure with a cold blankness that she had never seen before. "K-aren." The word was thick, dry and desiccated but recognizable, sounding entirely too real and she slowly closed her mouth, lips trembling as she watched him, tugging one, then another tube of out him until all that remained was the IV and the vitals monitor. He fingered those cords with evident distaste, closing his eyes then pulling, and she winced for him, at the flutter of pain crossing delicate features. Tossing them aside, he pulled himself along the edge of the bed, the shrill wail of flatlining life signs behind him rousing her out of her stupor as he reached out a hand to her, a thin stream of blood trickling in the dimness from where he'd pulled the IV out. "Karen." She blinked at him, then turned her head as the door knob began to turn, his head with it and she felt -- it, something emanating outward, pushing the door shut again, a surprised yelp accompanying it. Kamui loomed over her, taller than she remembered, older too, and looking far too self-possessed for someone who had spent the better part of three years in a coma, his voice less scratchy this time. "Let's go." She should say something, she knew she should. Maybe even suggest that he stop, that he let a doctor check him out. Or hell, make some pointless exclamation about him being awake but the best she could manage was a nod, too stupefied to do more than reach out, his hand warm and soft and real beneath hers, squeezing her fingers with a strength that surprised her. "I -- Oh my God," she breathed. "You--you're--" "Karen, please." A sense of urgency broke through his cool demeanor and it was that she responded to, barely registering the urgent pounding against the door as they began to fade out, melting away like heat on a summer's day but all she felt, all she could feel, was Kamui's hand in hers and amethyst eyes, almost hollowed out, the outline of her fires reflected there. The rest … well, the rest suddenly didn't matter so much. *** Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She swore as she loaded a couple of cups on the tray, listening to them rattle against the metal surface before they settled, not daring to pick them up just yet. The tea was already steeping, a rush job but it was the best and most calming things she could manage under the circumstances, needing a few minutes of space and time alone to try and compose herself. As if that were likely to happen any time soon. Karen rubbed her hands against her thighs, it occurring to her rather belatedly that damp hands were probably not the best thing to rub against a silk skirt, dark blotches appearing in the soft fabric. She blanched then reached for the dishcloth hanging off the oven, wiping her hands stiffly before she dabbed at the spots with the driest ends of the towel, a futile effort but it gave her something to do besides wait for the tea and wonder just what the hell she was doing. She had however learned something of some importance in the last half hour and that was it was entirely possible to go from mildly intoxicated to stone sober given the right kind of prompting. And she supposed having your once fearless leader and fellow Seal come back from the figurative dead counted as such. Although it was playing merry hell with her heart right now, chest still feeling a touch too tight for comfort. Half-turning, she glanced over her shoulder, through the half-drawn kitchen blinds out into the living room, trying not to stare at a sight she never thought she'd get to see again. Kamui, alive and moving around -- well, not exactly moving but awake and here. He was sitting in the leather arm chair near the balcony door, staring at the floor and absently running his fingers over the bandages Karen had insisted on, trying not to wince at the sight of bruising where he'd yanked his IV free. Were it not for the surroundings and the utter quiet, she could almost convince herself that no time had passed at all and that Sorata or Arashi or any of the others would come bounding through the door, full of concern and trying to lift the boy's spirits. The way they never would again. But it wasn't three years ago and he wasn't the same, not outwardly at the very least. He was still boyish and sweet-faced, but his cheeks had a little less baby-fat to them now, his body more sleekly defined, losing some of its awkward coltishness. His hair was longer now too, badly in need of a hair cut, dark locks dusting his shoulders, fingers absently reaching up to brush longish bangs out of his face. They'd gotten rid of his paper gown but other than a few of Nozumi's garments, there was nothing in the apartment for him to wear save for an old bath kimono one of her customers had left with her once upon a time. It didn't even reach his ankles but it would do for now, mostly covering him until she could procure something else for him to run around in. Run around. Dear God. Just the thought of Kamui about and running anywhere again, set her to trembling again, caught in some sort of delayed shock. Behind her, the kettle shrilled and it really was a wonder she hadn't burned anything down yet, having to yank the towel back from the stove eye, not even really sure how it'd gotten that close in the first place. Rubbing her eyes, she re-hung the cloth, removing the kettle and taking a deep breath before she began pouring, relatively pleased that she only managed to miss the cup once. Running her fingers along the outside of the tray, she tried to still herself, staring at the whispy-clear curls rising from both cups, tiny invisible fires making them rise higher, the heat coming off the clay cups almost tangible. It was stalling and it was so stupid but she couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was she was supposed to say. Or do. She had been fond of Kamui but they had never been very close and she'd always imagined that when or if, he'd ever woken up, Yuzuriha or God even Subaru, would be the one to ease him back into things while she offered what support she could. With him being as quiet was he was, she couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind or if it had registered yet, that there were so few of them left. He hadn't exactly been forthcoming -- not with the talking or showing much emotion beyond that initial outburst at the hospital, sinking into some sort of numbed lassitude that she couldn't understand and couldn't help but fear. As if he didn't or couldn't care at all. 'Don't be dumb. It's just the shock of it all, of being…' She trailed off, giving herself a mental shake and gripping the tray, glaring at her hands as if daring them to start shaking again. Maybe it worked or maybe she was just too tense for that sort of jerky movement but the cups remained still this time, serene and waiting just as he was waiting for her. 'So let's quit stalling and get this show on the road, dear.' Straightening her shoulders, she fixed a smile on her face, using her hip to bump the swinging door open. "I don't really have anything snack-wise in the refrigerator -- haven't really had the chance to go grocery shopping but there is tea. And if you are hungry, I can order out." Dull pomegranate orbs flickered towards her then went back to staring at his feet, his expression distant, "Tea is fine." Her smile slipped a notch but as much as she wanted to falter, to skid back a step, she marched herself across the intervening space, leaning down and nearly shoving the tray in his face, a bit more forceful than she might have been normally. Kamui blinked, as if he were only now seeing things, his eyes touching her face again before he reached out with obvious hesitation, wrapping long fingers around the grayish cup. "…thank you." The words were meek but they weren't quite so dead as they had been and that was an improvement. She nodded, placing the tray on the coffee table, leaving her cup untouched for the moment as she situated herself on the sofa across from him, watching as he raised the cup to his lips, attempting to take a sip then grimacing, blowing across the dark surface. "Did I make it too hot?" She asked apologetically. "I tend to like my drinks volcanic and I so rarely prepare anything like tea for anyone else that it never occurs to me to do it any other way." "No, it's just…not something I'm used to," he admitted, lowering his hands so that the cup was resting against the arm of the chair. "Ah." Karen found herself at a loss, staring at her knees much as he had been and feeling almost as young. For a woman of her age and experience, she found it more than a little disconcerting. "I--how do you feel?" There was a lull, as if he were having to try out the sentence, his reply unsteady, full of stops and starts. "I -- okay. I guess. Here," his hand lifted to absently touch his chest, the area where she vividly remembered Fuuma's Shinken sinking in and she shivered at the vacant look on his face. "How…how long?" 'Was I in a coma?' Karen silently finished for him. "Three years," she replied, twisting her fingers in such a way as she hadn't since she was all of eight years old, no doubt not good for them but right now she really didn't give a damn. The hand against his chest tightened, knuckles whitening as his fingers splayed, the only outward sign of any emotional disturbance at all. "Three years," he echoed and seemed to sag in on himself. "I -- we won, right? I didn't just dream that up…did I?" "Oh Kamui," she breathed, her heart going out to him as he flinched, eyes dropping. She wanted to touch him, to lay her hand on his, to offer some sort of reassurance but judging from the way he seemed to be almost physically withdrawing, she wasn't sure that would be a good idea right now. "Yes. Yes, we won." "Good," Kamui replied, not sounding as if he thought it were good or bad or even anything at all. He sounded tired more than anything else, awake less than an hour and already taking the weight of the world back on his shoulders. "Would you like to rest? If you're tired--" He shook his head, messy hair falling into his eyes. "I've done enough of that," his voice was soft, turning his head towards the glass window, staring out at the skyline beyond it. "I think I just need to sit for a while, if that's okay?" "You can sit however long you want to," Karen replied, her voice soothing. "There's no rush at all. Not now. Now you have … time." The word seemed to draw him, his eyes closing briefly, exhaling with infinite slowness as his head tipped backward to rest against the back of the chair. He was still -- for so long she was almost afraid he'd gone to sleep when he spoke again, "Thank you. Thank you, Karen." "You're welcome," she reached for her cup, pulling bare feet underneath her. "Yuzuriha is going to burst something when she sees you again." "She--she's alive?" Leaning on her elbow, cup in one hand, Karen nodded, "She is. She and Kusanagi both. They're actually running a shrine together. Well, I say running but running amuck is much better. I don't think I've seen so many homeless animals in one place. The last time I was there she had a shed full of hamsters, I kid you not. It did not quite bring the smile she'd hoped for but his lips twitched a bit before he sobered again. "And the others?" "Well…you know about Sorata?" She paused, watching him nod perceptibly. "Seiichirou died, so did the other two Dragons of Earth, Yuuto and Satsuki. She did not bring up Arashi and she prayed, prayed, he wouldn't notice the slip as she continued, "Kakyou is also alive. And has been installed as the new Dreamseer for the government in Hinoto's place." He shifted, the leather of the chair creaking along with his movements but said nothing, his expression almost frighteningly neutral. She bit the inside of her lower lip, "Fuuma is doing well or so I've heard. He returned to Tokugashi Shrine not long after you --" "That's for the best, I'm sure," he cut her off, not unkindly but with a certain restless discomfort, shifting again. "I'm--glad he's doing all right." 'But you don't want to talk about him, do you?' Karen thought. She couldn't blame him, not after everything that had happened but she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her a little sad. "He is. I've heard he's using the money that was left to him to restore the shrine." "Good." Again, the same, nervous monotone, a brief tremor that declined any further word on the subject. The message was clear: Change the subject. Now. So she did. "And then there's Subaru." If the mention of Fuuma unsettled Kamui, Subaru's name made him freeze up, his eyes widening just a fraction, something close to his old deer in the headlights expression crossing his face, so familiar that it hurt to see. Then it disappeared again, face hardening until even his eyes seemed to close off, "And how is the Sakurazukamori?" "I don't know. I haven't seen him since that day … since you were admitted," Karen said frankly. "Though from Nokoru's intelligence, he's still around and doing quite well for himself." "Good for him." "Subaru was very upset about what happened, Kamui. I think--he blamed himself for it." "That's great. Can we talk about something else, please?" "I--Er…of course. What would you like to talk about?" She asked, taken aback by his sudden rudeness. He seemed to deflate just a bit at that, "I -- don't know. But not that. Not right now, okay?" "Okay," she picked at the fabric of her skirt with her free hand while lifting the cup up with the other, taking a long sip. "We are however going to have to tell Nokoru you're awake. Although I would bet that he's already got an inkling." "Could we--just not? Tell anyone, I mean?" She frowned, "Kamui?" "I'd just like -- some time. To think. About things. Without having everyone else leaning over my shoulder." "Well, I'd advise getting in contact with Nokoru if only to forestall that, if you're really so dead set against everyone else being aware of your … recovery. If he can't find you then he'll come looking and that's liable to set off more than a few flags." He nodded, chewing his lip in contemplation, "Could--could you talk to him? Please?" "I could, although I'm sure he's going to want to come by himself, just to verify things and make sure you're okay," she said gently. "That's fine." "Kamui…" But he wasn't really paying attention anymore, leaning forward just long enough to put his cup on the table before pushing out of the chair, moving to stand in front of the glass. He seemed to stare at his reflection for a moment before glancing at her. "May I go outside, please?" Karen swallowed hard, nodding and trying not to feel a little hurt as the door slid open and shut quickly behind him, not understanding at all what had just happened. For three years, all she had wanted was for Kamui to wake up, for the chance to talk to him again, and now that it had come -- He didn't want to talk at all. And she hadn't the slightest idea of what to do with that. Or what to do at all. ***End of Chapter One Next Part return to splash page