Disclaimer: If you honestly think I own the Fifth Element, then you're way off base. You need to see a doctor about that.
AN: Yes. I know. Fifth Element? From Masako? But I was watching the movie today, and when I went to check on it, I realized that this has been left completely undone...When it seems obvious that this is what's going to happen. Though I hope for happiness and children for our two heroes, Leeloo has been around for at least Five Thousand years already...and chances are that she's going to stay around, even after the love of her life is gone. That's what she was designed to do, after all. Be a Weapon for all of time.
She does not move, does not react, as drop after thin, polluted drop strikes her body. She feels it, though the inhuman intensity behind the perception is now gone.
Everything is gone. She glances down, stinging raindrops washing the pollutants from her eyes as she sees the blinking grid of the airways below her: she can almost trace the route that he took when she first landed in his cab, when he gave up his every security to protect a simple, babbling stranger.
Tears, she realizes at last. It starts with 'T'. Also...Terror. Torn. Tremble. Tight. Torment, torture, travail, tribulation, throb, throe, trial...tenderness. She feels cold still, and does not come in, even long after the priest (the new priest, for her friend and his apprentice are long since dead and buried) asks, pleads, begs. Her people, her creators, are equally powerless.
Sometimes she paces, weaving her hands through her bright hair. Often she simply sits, staring down.
She's waiting. For him. Somehow, she still believes that he'll be there. He'll smile at her, help her, gently guide her through all the confusion that has woken in the world while she lay dormant for so long.
Love...Love is worth saving.
And so she waits. Perhaps she will see him again, when the time is right and she is needed again, as the Fifth Element.
Four thousand, nine hundred and something odd years left to go, she thinks, a hopeful smile crossing her face as she mulls over one of his old phrases. Four thousand, nine hundred and something odd years...and then I'll be your Leeloo again.