Entry tags:

fanfic, timepiece, xxxholic

Oh God. I'll just warn you, flist, it isn't pretty...
Title: Timepiece (p7) (p6) (p5) (p4) (p3) (p2) (p1)
Author: smokexscribbles
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: It’s sad?
Disclaimer: I am not CLAMP.
Summary: It is not over yet, I swear. I did this pretty fast. Please don’t hurt me.



The woman is watching him with those black-hole sockets. She can’t possibly see him, yet she somehow turns her head to follow his movements.

She looks like she used to be pretty, red lips curved in a sweet smile, pale skin, slightly curly hair. Her dress, too, is a work of art. But the blood, the open ribcage, it ruins the look as a whole. “How did you find me?” she asks.

“I had help,” Watanuki says.

“You’re a little too late, I’m afraid,” she informs him, still cordial, still like the princess of the ball. “Look.”

The clock faces are see-through, like windows. Watanuki looks down and sees that the vines have made it into the ballroom. Doumeki has pulled Himawari, who is still in a daze, over to the clock tower door. He seems to be waiting, or looking for something.

“He’s waiting for you, I believe,” the woman says, a touch of bitterness in her voice. “Wants you to come down. Wants to save you. He wants to be with you, doesn’t he? And you want to be with him.”

“I- I don’t know,” Watanuki says. “I remember. We were… not happy. But not sad. Everything was better, even when it was worse…”

“You were in love,” the woman says, and it’s no longer a trace of bitterness. It’s obvious now, the anger and sadness she’s holding onto.

Suddenly there’s sound, deafening, all-consuming, crippling sound that drives Watanuki to his knees, pressing his palms to his ears. The woman doesn’t react, just stares blindly at him, smiling her sweet little smile.

As his ears stop ringing, Watanuki begins to realize he can hear screams. He stands up and looks out of the clock face: Down in the ballroom, people are waking up. The vines are wreaking havoc, destroying the ballroom, ripping through groups of people and leaving blood and broken tiles in their wake.

“Stop it,” Watanuki says.

“No,” she says angrily. “I won’t. This was my wish and you ruined it. All I wanted to do was to make everyone happy. It was such a nice night. I wanted it to last forever. Is that so wrong?”

“You can’t do this.”

“I paid the price. I gave up my heart and my sight for this. I’m not killing them. You are, you broke it, you broke this world and the spell and my night! You’re killing them, Watanuki Kimihiro!”

“I remember you,” he says suddenly, talking over the tolling of the bell. “I remember this night. A year ago – Well, a year before… this.”

ooo

Doumeki holds onto Himawari’s wrist and pulls her around to the back of the clock. “Stay here,” he says, leading her to the part that will shield her for the longest. He remembers who she is now, at least vaguely. A close friend, someone to laugh with and share meals with.

She grabs his sleeve. “Please,” she says, “Keep him safe. I’ll help, I’ll- ”

Doumeki doesn’t have to ask who ‘he’ is. “Stay here. He said to protect you. If something happens to me, you have to make him happy. Stay alive for him.”

“That’s not fair,” she whispers, but he’s gone already.

There’s panic on the ballroom floor, the scent of blood in the air. A blonde man is being held back by a larger man with red eyes. He’s screaming for someone, searching, seems to be ready to throw himself into the vines. “Yuui. Yuui!”

“For Christ’s sake don’t get yourself killed,” the other man says.

There’s something in the blonde man’s eyes that reminds Doumeki of the corpse out in the garden. No time, though, so he simply draws another shiningly unreal arrow onto his bow and fires. The vines twist as if they can feel pain, and back away for a few sweet seconds. But that’s not the only place they’re advancing, they’re everywhere, in fact, and the absolute chaos in the ballroom is heightened by the people looking for their partners and lovers and friends, trying to protect them. As the clock tolls, memories come back, the vines grow larger and more menacing, and things begin to crumble…

ooo

“You’re killing them,” the woman says, smiling in a vicious way. “You killed them and you killed me and you’re not a hero and you won’t be able to stop this before it’s too late. You should have danced with me that night.”

“You were always rather spiteful, weren’t you?” Watanuki remembers her with alarming clarity, the one girl he didn’t want to dance with. “You were jealous. I’m sorry.”

“Too late,” she says, showing all her teeth in a crazy grin, “Too late. It’s almost midnight.”

The clock has chimed eleven times.

The ballroom becomes more distorted with every bone-shaking sound.

With seconds in the balance, Watanuki pushes the girl aside, reaches into the dead center of the clock, and grabs for the hot, wet, pulsating center of it. He pulls his hand back, ripping the beating heart from the centre of the clock, and the girl screams as if her chest was being opened up anew.

“Goddammit!” she howls. “You’ll go to Hell with me!”

She may be dying, but she is strong enough to shove Watanuki backwards. His lips part in a surprised “Oh,” and he hears the clock face smash rather than feeling his body hit the glass.

Below, the vines have stopped moving, the ballroom looks like a normal room once again, but that doesn’t change the height he’s falling from, and it doesn’t change that he’s falling onto stone and broken glass, and it doesn’t change that there’s no way in this Universe or the next that anyone could catch him as he falls.

The ballroom is dead silent, so everyone hears the thud. Doumeki is there first, of course, crossing the distance in a few seconds that to him seem to go by in slow motion. Watanuki is bleeding and broken. His glasses are gone. There is a bone sticking out of his chest. He does not seem to notice. He seems to be past pain. Doumeki kneels down next to him, scared to touch him, and says, “The witch can fix you. She owes us. She’ll fix you.”

Watanuki just shakes his head. “The price. Not worth it.” Then he smiles in a tired sort of way. “I told you, didn’t I? That you used to be in so many of my dreams.”

Doumeki nods. He’s not sure he can bring himself to speak.

“Don’t be sad,” Watanuki tells him. “You never used to be sad. I promise, okay? This time, the only thing I’ll dream about is you.”

He closes his eyes like he’s going to sleep. He doesn’t open them again. Doumeki can’t think; he can’t breathe; he can’t cry.