Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction ❯ Heaven's Gates ❯ Destinations Reached ( Chapter 2 )

"Ticket, please…"

What am I doing?

"Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy your flight…"

Where do I think I'm going?

"Let's see…coach, seat 14-A. This way, please, ma'am…"

Why can't I understand anything about myself...my life...anymore?

"Can I get you a drink, miss? Miss? Excuse me, ma'am?"

With a jolt, Tomoyo was wrenched out of her thoughts. She realized that the plane was already in the air, and the pretty flight attendant was staring down at her with concern. What had she been saying?

"Ah, yes, a drink would be fine, thank you. Ice water, please." She watched the attendant smile nervously at her...had she really been so lost in thought?...before turning to prepare the drink on the metal cart. When she took the drink, Tomoyo said apologetically, "Forgive me, miss, I didn't mean to ignore you, I was simply…preoccupied."

The girl smiled at her again, more at ease. "Oh, don't worry, ma'am. Many people get nervous about flying." She continued up the aisle.

Absently, Tomoyo sipped at her water. Nervous about flying? No, she'd always loved to fly...especially when Sakura let her ride the magic staff…She sighed, turning away deliberately from that train of thought.

She was planning to land in Hong Kong, then transfer over on a flight to New Delhi in India before catching another plane to Jerusalem. From there she'd most likely head for Athens; she'd take a train to Transylvania, then rent a car to go along the Danube River. Afterwards, she'd want to go to Amsterdam; then she'd drive down and tour the wine country of France…perhaps visit Normandy? Maybe then she'd take a boat across the English Channel, stop in Canterbury, and walk the route of the Canterbury Tales before heading back to London. She'd think then about flying…elsewhere. She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was going to be a very long flight.

* * *

"Oh, Suuuuuuppi-chaaaaan," came the Voice, and the small cat creature sat straight up in his master's lap, fur standing on end in dread. "Suppi-chan? Where aaaaaaaaare you?" the Voice called in a playful, sing-song delight that only the most malevolently despicable minds can manage.

"Oh, please no," Spinel muttered. "Isn't he supposed to be at school?"

"Early release today," Eriol murmured, suppressing a smile. "And I'm afraid they're having a three-day weekend, my poor friend."

Spinel moaned in horror. "These schools in England are really sadistic...unleashing monsters like that..." He glared in the direction of the Voice calling his name. "...on the poor, unsuspecting masses."

Eriol chuckled. "Makes for an interesting holiday, don't you think?"

The cat sighed in resigned defeat. "Sure. How interesting," he answered dryly as Nakuru burst through the door.

"Suppi-chan! Time to play!" he cried as he swooped down on the cat. He carted off the whimpering animal, joyfully singing, "Playtime! With Suppi-chan! So much fun! Let's! Go! Find! Dum-dee-doo…a water gun!"

Eriol laughed again as his cat cried out, "Nooo! Master Eriol, help me!" Then he turned and looked out the window. It was nearing six o' clock.

She dozes on the plane.

He smiled faintly out into the sunset. It would only be a few weeks now.

She plans a tour of Europe as she rests.

So like her, to multi-task…She'd probably only spend a few days in each location before moving on to the next. She'd be restless, he knew, fixing in his mind the vision of the woman sleeping in the plane. Restless, and frightened. Of herself? Her past? Or the truth? Perhaps all three.

She dreams of shadows and faces…sometimes both are one.

He sighed. Just weeks until she arrived here, in his home. His territory. What would she do then? Would she continue to run? The sigh became a smirk. She'd try…but he'd catch up to her. And then…

And then, Eriol decided as his cat's tormented yowls escalated dramatically and he turned away from the window to go referee his creations' "playtime" activity, they'd see what would be.

* * *

Two weeks and four days later, at Heathrow International

Tomoyo sighed as she leaned against the post of the terminal waiting area. She felt so tired…so damn tired right now. She knew she should have just taken the boat across the Channel in the first place.

But no, she'd finally decided. It would be quicker and better to take a plane from France into England. And here she was, after four hours of delays and an hour-and-a-half long flight with absolutely zero sleep at all in the past twenty-nine hours, still trying to convince herself she'd make the rational decision.

Like hell she had.

She had a migraine building up behind her eyes, a very empty stomach, and no pocket change in British currency to make a phone call to a taxi company to make her trip to a hotel.

And a very, very short temper.

She sighed and turned. It was nearly noon, she thought blearily. Trying not to visualize lunch, she headed for the luggage terminal so she could pick up her bags.

Blinking, she stared into the beaming face of Eriol Hiiragizawa.

"Why, hello, there," he greeted her, as if they'd planned beforehand to meet at the airport. "And how are you doing this lovely morning, Daidouji-san?" The use of her last name...as he'd expected...made her flinch. He knew she'd been using an alias these past two weeks. Fear of a name only increases fear of a thing itself, he mused, mentally applauding J. K. Rowling. Was Tomoyo so afraid of herself she'd avoid any reference to her name? Apparently so.

"It's nearly noon," she managed, before she caught herself. "I...I mean, hello, Hiiragizawa-kun. It's been…quite some time, hasn't it?"

"Fourteen years," he agreed. "And you've grown into quite the lovely lady during that period, haven't you?"

God in Heaven, she was gorgeous, he thought, blatantly admiring the sight before him. She stood nearly five-feet-nine, with legs that went on forever, clad only in a short blue skirt that matched her stylishly cut white blouse. Her long hair had grown with her height, and remained just past her waist. Her violet eyes were fringed by thick, dark lashes. That small, perfect pink mouth was currently pursed in confusion.

"Perhaps," Tomoyo replied, evading the question neatly. "And how have you been, Hiiragizawa-kun?"

"Well enough, I believe," he replied gamely, aware of her evasion. "So, Daidouji-san, how do you find England?"

"With a map," she retorted, her exhausted brain still trying to process this irrefutable fact: Eriol Hiiragizawa was here. Then she bit her lip, conscious of how rude she must sound. But he was still smiling.

"Indeed. How ingenious of you."

Despite herself, Tomoyo giggled. Eriol marveled inwardly at the beauty of such a young, childish sound escaping such an obviously adult woman.

"Hiiragizawa-kun, may I ask what you're doing here?"

His eyes seemed to…twinkle at her. "Certainly. May I ask that you call me Eriol, as I have every intention of calling you Tomoyo?"

"What?" She blinked, confused.

"Hmm?" He was smirking now, the arrogant, pompous...Tomoyo forced a smile. This is not helping my headache. Fine. He wanted to play mind games? She'd just refuse to comply, and let him think he'd won.

"Very well. Eriol-san, what business do you have here in England?"

"A bookstore, a candy shop, an ice cream parlor, and quite a sum in stocks and bonds."

The reply was so blithe, so deliberately careless; therefore, it was all the more bewildering. "I...beg your pardon?"

"Of course, it's not just business I have here," he told her, enjoying the puzzled purple of her eyes. "It's home as well. All work and no play, you know."

"Home? I...oh. Oh." Of course; she'd forgotten. Eriol lived here in England. In London. But that didn't explain what he was doing in Heathrow in the middle of the day. She summoned another smile, cursing the aching tension behind her eyes. Too much cerebral activity, she decided wearily. Time to make an escape.

"Well, Hiiragi...ah, Eriol-san, you're probably headed off on a trip," she said brightly, trying not to simply slink past him with her tail between her legs. "And you're probably too busy to stand around chatting. I'm sorry; I'm on vacation, you see, and I have to go get my luggage, which they've probably discarded by now. I don't mean to take up too much of your...your time…" It took her a moment to realize he had her luggage, one large suitcase in each hand.

"No, and no, I'm not," Eriol told her, grinning. "And yes, I know, and no, you don't, and no, they haven't, and no, you're not." He hefted each suitcase...both half his size...easily. "But you may be wasting yours. It depends on how long you plan to stay here in London." He began to walk, and Tomoyo, dumbstruck, automatically moved to keep up. "You'll probably want to call a cab," he went on, "but I've brought my car, so it would be cheaper and more logical, which I'm sure you'd appreciate, to use mine, of course."

"Of...of course." When had he gotten so...commandeering? Had he always been this way? She couldn't quite recall…

"Good." When had she gotten so...malleable? She'd never been like this before. He remembered that no one could ever push Daidouji Tomoyo around. Somehow, the fact that he could bully...maneuver her into his own plans without so much as a squeak of protest was…disturbing.

"You can also forego having to search for a hotel," he informed her, keeping a careless smile on his face. "My house is large enough, with plenty of guest rooms. I've taken the liberty of preparing one for your arrival."

"Ah...okay…" Tomoyo shook her head slowly, like a swimmer shaking off water droplets. "I…I hope I'm not intruding…that is, Hiira...Eriol-san, please don't feel obligated to…to look after me simply because of our past friendship."

Ah…here it was, the barest minimum of objection. Still disturbing. "Don't fret so, Tomoyo-san. I don't feel obligated in the least, but I'm hoping that our friendship isn't merely in the past. I do wish to continue it in the present, as well, if you've the inclination." He aimed a winning smile at her. The dazzling brilliance of it seemed to make her head ache worse.

"Yes, yes, all right," she murmured, wishing dearly with all her heart to simply close her eyes and be horizontal for, oh, say the next century or so. "Of course we will. Ah, Eriol-san…" She abandoned a bit of her hard-fought dignity, though not enough to beg for an aspirin. Or a gun. Whichever would put her out of her misery quicker. "I must place a phone call to Sakura-chan, to..."

"That can wait," Eriol said gently. "Rest first. Here..." They had reached the parking lot somehow without her realizing it. "My car is this way. Tomoyo-san…" He noted that she was walking with her eyes half-lidded. "Are you feeling all right?"

The glare of the garage light off the cars was making her head spin. "I...yes, I...oh..." She stumbled as the world did a slow roll, and the colors blurred out momentarily. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and felt the ground tilt, sink...then fall away completely. Her eyes popped open, and she found herself scooped up bridal style in Eriol's arms.

"I...Eriol-san?"

"Fool," he muttered irritably, his playful good manners evaporating. "I'll bet you haven't eaten or slept in days. And you've a migraine the size of Europe to boot, haven't you?" He let out a sigh. "Somehow, I half-expected this. After what Sakura-chan told me, I had a feeling you'd push yourself past your limits, just to prove to yourself you could handle it."

"Sa…Sakura-chan?" And though her brain was still muzzy, still aching with the wrath of every demon in hell, it began to make sense. Eriol's apperance…his offer of assistance, of housing, even the damn car…She struggled against him, suddenly angry.

"Let go of...you planned this! You planned this with Sakura-chan, didn't you?"

"I did," he said simply, and began to walk, leaving her luggage behind."

"My suitcases..."

"Will be fine. Stop squirming."

Oh, how that commanding tone grated her nerves! And her struggles weren't impeding him in the least; he carted her like a sack of feathers. "How dare you manhandle me this way!"

"Pardon me, Tomoyo-san," he said calmly, "but I believe that I am treating quite a bit better than you have yourself."

That stunned her, momentarily. "I...you...Hiiragizawa, unhand me this instant." Her voice had gone cold, queen-to-peasant.

He ignored her as if he were a god. "I assume you'll want an explanation; however, it shall wait until we get on the road." So saying, he unceremoniously dropped her to her feet, opened the door of a red sports car, and all but shoved her in.

"You can't..."

"I can," he interrupted her, sudden anger blazing in his eyes. "And I have. Buckle your safety belt." He shut the door on her protest, and sent a simple mental command to the suitcases. He walked around to the driver's side, not bothering to check the trunk for them; he knew they were in there.

Tomoyo was fuming silently by the time he climbed into the driver's seat. She treated him with icy silence as they began to back out of the parking space and drive out of the airport garage.

"Stop sulking," said Eriol pleasantly after a few moments. Tomoyo threw him a glare.

"I am not sulking," she informed him grandly. "I am fuming silently."

"Sulking," he said with relish, apparently having forgotten his annoyance with her, "like a spoiled child who's been told she can't have any cake."

The comparison so enraged her that she debated striking that smug smirk right off his face. "You," she hissed instead, "are despicable."

He nodded as if seeing her point. "Which is why I came to pick you up and offered to let you stay in my home..."

"Offered! Offered? You practically ordered me to stay in your house!"

"I didn't hear any dissent then," he pointed out. She was forced to concede, which didn't help her mood at all.

"Oh, you just...just leave me alone!" she snapped, turning to stare out the window. "I had a headache then, and it's only worse now, thanks to your insufferable condescending attitude."

He glanced at her. "I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry for it." She didn't answer, but by the slight tilt of her head in his direction, he knew she was listening. "Poor Tomoyo-san," he continued gently, lacing his voice with genuine sympathy. "How hard you've been running, from a shadow that's overtaking you step by step. Why should you have to fight to keep it back? You don't deserve this pain at all. Kind, sweet, patient Tomoyo-san."

His quiet words were evoking emotion in her that she wanted desperately to avoid...regret, resentment, defeat. He's right. Why should I have to fight this shadow? I don't want to…not anymore… She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears.

He knew she was battling the tears. And it made him hurt for her. "And the saddest part is, it hurts you more than you're willing to allow," he said, almost to himself. "Not more than you're willing to admit, for you're far more sensible than that. But you won't allow yourself to cry, Tomoyo-san." He chuckled. "Kind of odd, isn't it? You're too sensible not to cry but too stubborn to let yourself. A hard place for you to be, isn't it?"

Despite herself, Tomoyo laughed. "You are despicable, Eriol-san," she said. "Using your words against me to defuse my anger. Clever." And still she fought the tears.

And he knew. Keeping his eyes on the road, with his right hand he reached out and grabbed hers. "Tomoyo-san," he said gently, "do be sensible, won't you?"

And with that, with his quiet, understanding statement, Tomoyo felt the last of her defenses break. Gripping his hand like a lifeline, she wept until she thought her heart was empty. And when she finished weeping, she let her head fall back and slept.

Eriol didn't let go of her hand until he had pulled into his own driveway; even then, he sat in the car with her hand in his, and watched her sleep.