Silent Treatment

by Samuraiko

He has almost always been an outsider, mistrusted, alone. But in the aftermath of violence, Kai finds himself haunted and lost in his memories, until Helene shows him that he isn't alone anymore. Set immediately after episode 9 (The Price of the Past). [Kai x Helene the maid]

Author's Note: After watching the ABSOLUTELY SQUEEWORTHY AWESOMENESS that was Episode 9 ("The Price of the Past"), the Good Ship Kai/Helene is in full sail so far as I'm concerned. And again, this little vignette took me about half an hour.

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He sits on the chaise longue in his chambers, his face in his hands, his whole body trembling. It has been an hour since returning to the palace with Heine, Maximilian, and Ludwig. An hour since his father had wordlessly embraced him tightly so his tears would remain hidden in his son's hair. An hour since he had embraced Bruno in turn, a mute gesture of gratitude for his younger brother's enduring faith in him.

An hour alone with his memories.

The rage.

The blood.

The fear.

The helplessness.

He cannot stop shaking.

Then comes a knock at the door.

He doesn't look up, but he hears the door quietly open and close, and soft footsteps approach. They stop at the end of the chaise longue, then he feels the chaise longue shift slightly as she sits beside him, hears the rustle of her skirts.

He still doesn't look up. He dares not, not when the memories and the tears are so close to the surface.

They sit side-by-side in silence for several long moments. Then, slowly, he lowers one hand from his face, and rests his hand on the chaise longue between them. But he still doesn't look up.

Then soft fingers gently clasp his own. Her hand is warm against the silk of his glove. There is comfort in that touch, a quiet solace and reassurance that he is not alone.

At her touch, the fear within him loosens its terrible hold, and the tears at last begin to fall. But she never lets go, and she never says a word. Her silence speaks volumes to him. He hears her relief at his safe return, at his noble if misguided attempt at peaceful reconciliation. He hears her pride at his courage to continue overcoming his demons of self-doubt and shyness. He hears her sadness at not knowing what to say to ease his pain and dry his tears, and her helpless anger at the ones who brought him to this.

Neither speaks.

Neither lets go.

Then, finally, he dries his eyes with his free hand, and his whole body shudders as he lets all the tension and anger and pain of the past year fall away like a shroud. And still without looking at her, he brings her hand to his lips.

And in the silence, he hears her smile.