DISCLAIMER: Nuriko and Hotohori do not belong to me, much as I'd like them to. shakes fist at sky*

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wouldn't consider this a "yaoi" fic, but I suppose it could be considered one, so thus I'll stick the warning up here. If it is yaoi, it's very, very mild yaoi, and thus barely worth mentioning. Ah, but anyway...on with the story.


"WHEN DREAMS..."
 

~~~

I wake up in a cold sweat. The nightmare...the nightmare again.

It's been eight years, but I still remember that look on her face...and I remember how she looked after it happened...so...so small, lifeless, like a...like a shell, not a girl. She wasn't there. I looked at her face and knew she wasn't there anymore.

I rise up from the bed, press my hand against my heart, and close my eyes. I'm breathing hard--always am after these nightmares. The room's dark, but I can still make out vague shadows--there's a bit of moonlight, streaming through the walls...they're so thin... I squint, suddenly aware of a sound other than my own heavy breathing. My eyes widen, my pulse quickens--someone's here...someone's in my room...why? Who? A Kutou assassin? What're they waiting for?

My muscles tense and frozen, I slide silently from beneath the covers, lift myself up into a crouch on the bed...at least I might have a fighting chance, if he doesn't realize I know he's here...and I've got Taitsu-kun's bracelets now...but...but if he's really an assassin, if he's here to kill me, then...what's he waiting for...?

"Nuriko."

I freeze, startled, feel the breath drain out of my lungs. That voice...no. No, it can't be. Silly. You're being silly, Nuriko. But...but, still...

I frown into the darkness, can just barely make out, now that I know where to look, the shadow of a man...tall, broad-shouldered, sitting quietly in my chair before the vanity. I remember, suddenly, hours spent sitting in that very chair, my maids moving swiftly back and forth behind me, chattering...brushing my hair... Appropriate that he would sit there. I smile, softly. Then again, where else would he sit but before a mirror?

"Hotohori-sama....what're you doing in here?" I blush, suddenly realizing that he's apparently been sitting there for some time, and if that's true, then, he heard...he heard... I cringe, open my mouth to say something, to defend myself, but he stands from the chair, cuts me off before I can say a word. A moment later, much to my surprise, he's crossed the room, lowered himself down onto the bed beside me. He slips into a wash of moonlight--I can see him clearly now, that strange, dignified beauty, that empirical solemnity...what in the name of Suzaku is he doing here??

He stares at me for a long moment. "I was taking my nightly walk, and was passing by..." He trails off, cocks his head briefly to the side as if in thought, then turns back to me and offers a gentle nod. "You were shouting."

I flush, turn my face away. "It was nothing. Just a...a bad dream." I pause, a sudden, irrational fear seeping through me... "I didn't...I didn't say anything...did I?"

He glances at me, his profile dark and strong in the darkness. "You were screaming the name 'Kourin.'" Those bright, golden eyes narrow. "Isn't that the name you were using when--"

I nod. "Yes." A thin laugh slips from my lips. "I guess it's pretty obvious now that that's not my real name..."

"'Nuriko' is fine with me."

He shifts again--I draw in a startled breath, suddenly finding Hotohori leaning close to me, his face only a few centimeters away from my own, his eyes large and bright and solemn. "You know," he says quietly. "You look very much like a woman."

My eyes widen. "Hotohori-sama..."

What's going on...no...this isn't... It doesn't seem...quite real...

Before I can get a clear grip on just what's happening, he leans closer and, much to my shock, brushes his lips against mine, very lightly, very gently. They're warm, soft...just as I always thought they would be. I struggle to recognize reality somewhere in this strange midnight fantasy...it must be a dream...I must still be dreaming, because...because, this can't...he doesn't...

He pulls back, stares at me for a long moment. His eyes are so soft and kind, and I remember this expression...I remember it from...from somewhere...with someone else... "There are ways," he says quietly, "of...of changing you, Nuriko. Powerful magic...Taitsu-kun would know how." Something touches my face, startling me...his hand...Hotohori's hand, warm on my cheek...have dreams ever felt this real??

Gods, what if this IS reality?

"I still need an empress," he continues in the same soft, low voice, his eyes softly closed, his hand resting on my cheek as if to hold me in place. "I'd wanted it to be Miaka, but..." He trails off, sighs. "She and...and Tamahome..."

Something cold and hard settles into my stomach, and I know, then, why this is happening. I know that this IS reality, but that...that... I sigh, reach up to grab onto his hand, take it into mine. "Hotohori," I say quietly. His eyes open, startled--I resist the urge to smile. Yes, I did that on purpose, Hotohori-sama...that's my natural voice, the voice Ryuen would speak in if he were still alive in me. Because I want you to know. I want you to understand.

"Hotohori," I repeat wearily. "Go back to bed. It's late, you're tired, and you're not thinking straight."

His eyes are wide and startled, his mouth hanging slightly open. He looks startled, perhaps a little hurt...I push my feelings away, remember, again, why he's doing this, that it doesn't have anything at all to do with me, that I'd be a fool to accept a proposal from anyone in this state of mind...

He shakes his head, looking confused. "Nuriko...I thought...I thought that you..."

My eyes close briefly, and I fight back a flash of mental anguish. "I do," I manage. "I do. But..." I open my eyes, offer this young emperor a soft smile. "But, you don't. You love Miaka. Even if I were female, it wouldn't change that."

"I could grow to love you."

This'll sting. I know it even as I open my mouth to say it...but it has to be said. "Miaka thought she could grow to love you, too. She couldn't." I force my lips into a smile despite the vicious screams of "Baka-baka-baka!" echoing in my skull, squeeze his hand gently in my own. "I am seishi," I tell him firmly. "So are you. We live to protect the Miko...to protect Miaka."

I'm shocked, suddenly, to notice a light sheen of tears glistening in his eyes. His fingers tremble beneath mine. "She should love me," he murmurs quietly. "I've never been anything but kind to her...I've never done anything but love her. He's hurt her...but, she loves him anyway. Do you know what that feels like?? To love someone so much...but know they'll never love you back?"

I wince, but of course he doesn't notice. "No," I manage, clearing my throat against the lie. "I wouldn't know. But...but, Hotohori-sama...this won't change things. Being with me...it won't make her love you, and it won't make you love me. It wouldn't be right...you know it."

For a long moment...he says nothing. He sits there beside me, his eyes rimmed with tears, his head hanging weakly downwards, his thick, strong fingers warm in my own...and, then he rises, straightens his crimson robes, tugs his hand from mine. Clearing his throat, he nods to me, draws in a deep breath. "Thank you, Nuriko," he states formally, granting me a quick nod of gratitude. "You're right. I'm...sorry. You're right. Let's just pretend that none of this ever happened."

I nod. "Of course."

And, then he turns and, with a swish of robes and long, silken hair...he's gone. His footsteps thud outside, moving farther and farther away from me, retreating back towards his own chambers. I lay back on the bed, feeling stunned and stupid at the same time, and take a moment to massage the bridge of my nose as my head suddenly feels like it's been kicked several times...

"Baka," I murmur, shaking my head and laughing softly. "Baka, baka, baka."

I roll over onto my side, tug the covers to my chin, and close my eyes. His words echo in my ears, clear and solid and strong...//let's just pretend that none of this ever happened...\\

All right. We'll pretend it never happened...and, in a way, I guess it didn't...but, I'll always have the memory, won't I? No matter what happens, I'll always have that.

I smile, reaching up to touch a finger to my lips.

Always.

~~~~
end.